Alfballs
by Bob Wright
Summary: The Spaceballs need Melmacian hair to power their latest WMD against Druidia. Unfortuantely for them, they don't know Alf's demeanor...or Lone Starr's resolve. NOW COMPLETED.
1. A New Sinister Plot

**ALFBALLS **

**BY BOB WRIGHT **

AUTHOR'S NOTE: ALF is a registered trademark of Alien Productions and Paul Fusco. Lone Starr, Dark Helmet, and other related characters and indicia are registered trademarks of Brooksfilms and MGM. Apologies that I can't shrink the text here in the beginning even smaller to make the joke better, but what you see is the best I could do (although if you couldn't read it, you probably would have less of an idea what was going on here without the blatant back story you'll get in a minute). And now, on with the story.

ONCE UPON A TIME WARP…

IN A GALAXY VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY FAR AWAY, THERE LIVED A RUTHLESS RACE OF BEINGS KNOWN AS…SPACEBALLS.

**EPISODE XIII **

FOUR YEARS HAVE PASSED SINCE MEGA MAID WAS DESTROYED. PRINCE LONE STARR HAS SETTLED DOWN WITH HIS NEW WIFE PRINCESS VESPA, EAGER TO START A NEW LIFE.

UNBEKNOWST TO OUR HERO (BUT KNOWNST TO US), HIS MORTAL ENEMIES THE SPACEBALLS HAVEN'T GIVEN UP YET. AFTER DESTROYING THE PLANET OF THE APES, THE EVIL LORD DARK HELMET HAS LED AN EXPEDITION TO TAKE OVER THE PLANET EXODOSUS, NEIGHBOR TO PLANET DRUIDIA, AND TURN IT INTO A WAR ZONE. NOW, HE AND HIS ASSOCIATES ARE ALL BUT READY TO UNLEASH THEIR MOST TERRIFYING WEAPON YET UPON THE UNSUSPECTING DRUIDIANS, SAVE FOR ONE LAST KEY INGREIDENT TO THEIR DEADLY MIX, SOMETHING ONLY THEIR FORMER VICTIMS CAN SUPPLY TO THEM……..

(If you can read this, you don't need glasses.)

ONE

The residents of Planet Druidia didn't usually look out to their neighbors in their little section of the universe. Safely content behind their air shield, they lived comfortable and happy lives, convinced the threat that had once threatened to destroy their planet had passed for good. After all, they had collected up the remains of Spaceball 1 (a.k.a. Mega Maid) and refused to sell them to their unholy neighbors. And little word had come of any news of any kind from Planet Spaceball for months. So as far as the Druidians were concerned, no news was good news.

Had they turned their telescopes to the neighboring planet of Exodosus, they might have noticed a different story. For the surface of the large, once deserted planet was now dotted with numerous Spaceball military installations. Neutron artillery guns, interstellar transports, hover tanks, and other prime examples of Spaceball military might dotted the landscape, and that wasn't counting everything that had been set up below the surface.

From their main control tower on the tallest mountain on the planet, the two architects of this buildup surveyed their work through futuristic binoculars. Lord Dark Helmet lowered his after a moment. "Well Colonel Sandurz," he confided in his associates, "Soon we'll be at full capacity for Operation Open Druid Season—meaning the end of Lone Starr, too."

"Absolutely, Lord Helmet," Colonel Sandurz agreed with the evil villain, "And best of all, the Druidians have no idea that we're doing…"

Helmet lifted up his visor, revealed his unbelievably nerdy true self. "Sandurz, we know already," he told the colonel, "Don't get repetitive."

"Sorry sir," Colonel Sandurz apologized.

The TeleWall to their right lit up. "Lord Helmet, this is Commanderette Zircon reporting from the research wing," the attractive young officer on duty told them, "Count Cuckoo would like to inform you that he's run into a slight snag with his T.A.R.G.E.T. research. He requests you join him now."

Helmet pulled his visor back down for a moment. "We'll be down immediately, Commanderette," he told her in his authoritative voice. Once Zircon had signed off, he yanked the visor up again and asided to Sandurz, "I knew we shouldn't have assigned Cuckoo to the research for the T.A.R.G.E.T.s. That idiot couldn't design a weightless coffeemaker let alone our new ultimate weapon of destruction. I don't even know why I took him as my apprentice."

"Well we couldn't overrule President Skroob, you know sir," Sandurz pointed out, "He isn't the most respected despot in the Frankfurt Galaxy for nothing."

"Well, let's go see what the problem is this time," Helmet said, leading Sandurz toward the elevator. A short 256 story flight straight down took them to the very heart of the research center of the base. Count Cuckoo, a hunchbacked being with a white face with red polka dots and a uniform that looked like a clown's, greeted them with a voice not unlike Peter Lorre's once they'd entered his wing. "Lord Helmet, Colonel Sandurz, I'm having problems getting the explosives to be as catastrophic as you and the president wished," he informed them.

"What's the problem with it?" Helmet asked him.

"We need Melmacian hair, sir," Cuckoo said to his master, pointing to a boiling greenish liquid in a large vat before them, "It's the one thing that'll make this all the more explosive and planet-killing. Unfortunately, I don't have any here."

"All right, Cuckoo, we'll look into it," Helmet said, "Sandurz, go to Melmac and shave all the hair off as many of those worthless things as you can find."

"Uh…," Sandurz looked very weak, "Lord Helmet, there's something I probably should have told you a long time ago."

"What?" Helmet didn't like the sound of this.

"Uh, could we discuss this in private?" Sandurz gestured toward a broom closet nearby.

"If you insist," Helmet followed his associate into the closet and closed the door. As Cuckoo listened curiously, his master shrieked at the top of lungs, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN MELMAC BLEW UP, SANDURZ!!??"

"It was just a slight miscalculation, sir, news travels so slowly in this part of the galaxy," Sandurz said, running out of the closet with his hands covering his crotch. Visor down, Helmet stormed after him, his cobra-headed Ring of the Schwartz already on his finger and aimed to destroy all in its path. "Well you'd better hope that some of the Melmacians survived, Sandurz, or all the president's horses and all the president's men won't be able to put you back together again!" the evil leader threatened, lowering the ring.

"President Skroob doesn't have any horses, Lord Helmet," Cuckoo pointed out.

"Don't try me, Cuckoo," Helmet thrust his ring at his apprentice. After making sure he wasn't going to get another peep out of him, he raised the visor and said, "OK, no problem, we'll just see if we can find any survivors. Sandurz, check the computer."

"Right sir," Sandurz strode over to the nearest console and announced out loud, "Computer, show the locations of every known survivor of Melmac documented over the last five years," he ordered it.

"Please deposit five spacebucks in marked slot," the computer told him.

"What?" Sandurz's expression dropped, "Why do you need spacebucks?"

"I need to put my kids through college," the computer told him, "No money, no information."

Sandurz sighed and gave the computer the requested money. "Thank you," the computer buzzed and proceeded to show THREE MATCHES FOUND.

"Where are they?" Helmet rushed up to the screen.

"It looks like there's one colony that settled on a place called New Melmac, one group around Sedna-5, and one questionable one around this yellow star that we haven't named yet," Sandurz said, reading the information on the screen.

"Why haven't we named it?" Cuckoo asked.

"There are so many yellow stars like it in its galaxy that we're nowhere near naming them all," Sandurz told him.

"Well, it's a start," Helmet said, "We'll have to examine them one by one. Sandurz, gather up the elitist of our task forces and deploy them toward the yellow star. We'll see if we'll find pay dirt there. Cuckoo, call Spaceball City and tell the president of this."

"Yes, Master," Cuckoo galloped off.

"Sandurz, prepare Spaceball 2 for immediate departure," Helmet ordered the colonel, "We're shoving off as soon as possible. We need to be back here with the Melmacian hair in three weeks when the perfect alignment with Druidia exists."

"When we're lined up with the air shield door, right?" Sandurz asked.

"Exactly," Helmet said, flicking another switch on the wall that gave him a perfect view of Druidia. And since King Roland gave us the combination last time, it'll be a simple matter to open it and leave the planet a sitting duck for our T.A.R.G.E.T.s."

He walked across the research room to the prototype of the T.A.R.G.E.T.: the Technically Advanced Rebuildable Gigaton Exploding Transgalaxator. A flattened saucer-shaped red metallic vehicle with a wide opening in the front for the huge warhead to be placed. It was an ominous sight. "Upon impact," Helmet rambled on, "It'll suck up every ounce of fresh air within its range, and the air probe'll return to the home ship unscathed. Once we've got all the air, we'll send in the Widowmaker model to destroy Druidia, and with it Vespa and Lone Starr." A devious smile cross his face. "And once we destroy Druidia," he said, "We'll spread out across the galaxy and make everything subject to our rule. No one will mock Planet Spaceball again."

"Of course not sir," Sandurz laughed, "Assuming the Melmacian or Melmacians we find cough up the hair we ask for."

"Sandurz," Helmet snickered, "What Melmacian wouldn't give up once he gets a load of us?"


	2. Two Sad Clowns

TWO

"ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!" the shout roared up so loud that it echoed all throughout Los Angeles and lasted for close to a minute and a half.

The Melmacian shuffled his way into the Tanner family garage. "No need to shout, Willie, I was just in the garden," he told his friend, "Now would you like to explain why you chose to cut short my private time with your yodeling for me?"

"Alf," Willie Tanner said as slowly and as calmly as he could, "Were you in here last night?"

"Yes," the former Gordon Shumway said, "This is not about the axel grease I purloined for my hiccups, is it?"

"No, but now that you brought that to my attention, I'll look into that too," Willie said, "But the big question of the day is, were you fiddling around with my radio?"

He pointed to his short-wave system, which had been heavy gutted since he'd last seen it. "Oh, you mean that," Alf said, "Well Willie, I doubt you'll believe this, but last night I had a premonition that something bad was coming this way, so I took it upon myself to construct a rudimentary weapon of sorts for self-defense when it arrives."

"It's going to arrive all right, mister," Willie's voice was rising, "I can't tell you how many years I worked on building this radio, so unless you agree to rebuild it pronto, that bad thing you've seen's going to be my fist heading…"

"Get a grip, Willie!" Alf raised his hands in protest, "Boy, some guys just don't know how to take it when evil threatens."

"All right, just give me back what you took and we'll call it at least somewhat even," Willie said, gesturing with his hand, "And from now on, no more borrowing without my permission, okay?"

"Whatever, whatever," Alf strolled out of the garage. Minutes later he returned clutching a strange contraption put together from the guts of the radio. "What is that supposed to be?" Willie inquired.

"Pancake tosser," Alf told him, "Trust me, it's very effective at close range if you're being attacked by multiple guys."

"You turned my radio into a pancake tosser!?" Willie was appalled by the mere thought of it, "You'd better hope I can put this back to the way it was before you put your furry fingers on it! Now leave me alone while I try to work on it!!"

"I take this to mean that I won't be getting extra Halloween candy come Friday." Alf asked. When Willie didn't answer he added, "I guess I'll take that as a no," and lurched out toward the laundry room.

Once inside, he slumped back into his basket and looked out the window at the sunset sky. He hadn't been lying when he told Willie he'd had a premonition of evil coming. It was an inbred trait of Melmacians to sense when people had harm in mind for them. This awareness was a major factor as to why Melmac had fought only one war in its existence. And from what Alf could judge, it was probably no more than a day away now.

There was a low thud as the front door slammed shut. The rest of the Tanners had returned from their Halloween shopping. Their happy and excited tones made Alf feel all the guiltier that he hadn't been able to go with them. He hoped they'd someday relent at least somewhat in their determination to keep him under wraps and let him have freer reign with his life on Earth.

"Hey Alf, want a 3 Musketeers?" Brian stuck his head in the laundry room door.

"Sure," Alf extended his paw for the candy and downed it wrapper and all. "Don't worry, I won't choke," he reassured the boy, "By the time it gets to my final stomach, the wrapper'll be ingested through the lining."

There was a loud crash from the garage, followed by the sound of Willie spewing multiple curses. "I guess he can't fix his radio," Alf shrugged.

"What happened to it?" Brian asked.

"Oh, it's a long story," Alf said quickly, "But the important thing is something bad's coming, so when you go trick-or-treating on Halloween, don't talk to anyone suspicious-looking. They may be out to get me, and they won't hesitate to come at me through you."

"But who would want to come after you, Alf?" Before Alf could answer Brian's latest question, Kate's voice exploded from the kitchen: "ALF!! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH ALL THE PANCAKE BATTER!!!!!?????"

"Hold that thought," Alf told his young friend, "I'll be back in a moment once this little confusion gets straightened out." As he lumbered off toward the kitchen, he said out loud, "At least there's probably someone else in this burned-out universe in worse straights than I am here."

* * *

Millions of light years away on Druidia, Prince Lone Starr gazed thoughtfully from his window in King Roland's castle up at the peaceful blue Druidian sky. TOO peaceful, Lone Starr thought. Ever since he'd married Vespa and settled down, something had been missing in his life. Something he hadn't realized he'd had until it was gone.

"Darling?" his bride stuck her head in the door, "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Lone Starr said quickly.

"Good, because I need to ask you an important question," Vespa waved to her maids, who came in carrying a plethora of bad dresses. "Which do you think suits me best for the Royal Druid Chanting Ball?" she asked him.

"Uh,…" Lone Starr scanned the dresses. None of them looked even remotely good, but he smiled and said, "Um, all of them, to be honest."

"Good, then I get to choose," Vespa smiled at this thought. She plucked up a horrid black dress with electric lights, including a glowing heart on the back in a strategic position, "I love it when I get to choose everything," she rambled on, "I wouldn't be a princess if I didn't."

"Sure," Lone Starr shrugged.

"Which reminds me, you'll have to have Tar-Tar get your suit for you," Vespa went on, "You want to look good for the dukes and earls."

"Uh, Vespa honey, don't take me the wrong way with this, but I'd really feel more comfortable in something like this," Lone Starr gestured to his only moderately formal suit, "Those super-formal things aren't me. And besides, I can't stand Tar-tar. No one can, you know that."

"I know, I'd kill him the first chance I'd get, but Daddy put a no-kill order on him, so we can't," Vespa sighed, "But what's the matter with you anyway? You're a prince, princes are supposed to love fancy stuff."

"Not me," Lone Starr said. "Would you mind if I step outside for a minute? I need to take a walk."

"If you want, but once you're done, I'd like to go over the guest list and the floral arrangements," Vespa read off her list, "And then we have to choose our choice of caterers-only those that do royal shows, of course—hire the musicians, hang the draperies, choose the color paint we want for the walls…"

Lone Starr wasn't paying attention anymore. He wandered aimlessly down the castle halls until he reached the balcony overlooking the courtyard.

"Hey boss, you OK there?" came his pal Barf from behind him. The mawg was licking a giant ice cream cone.

"Sort of," Lone Starr told him, "Where'd you get that?"

"Tar-Tar let me have it," Barf explained, "The cooks chased him out of the kitchen with it, so he let me have it. I still can't stand him, though."

"Same here," Lone Starr agreed. He exhaled deeply. "Boy, what I wouldn't give to rev up the old Winnebago and have one more adventure," he said, "None of this prince crap where you have to sit around all day and let everyone do every little thing for you. So much for happily ever after, huh?"

"You know, I've been thinking of that a little lately myself," Barf admitted, "Although I'd hate to give up all the free food. Like my uncle would…"

"Lone Starr," from out of nowhere, Yogurt's voice echoed in the ears of his apprentice. "Yogurt, is that you?" the hero asked out loud to the seemingly empty air.

"No, it's Mace Spraycan from Taboo; of course it's me," Yogurt told him, "Lone Starr, I need your help. The fate of Druidia lies in the balance, and you're the only one who can help."

"That serious, huh?" Lone Starr asked.

"That serious," Yogurt said, "Meet me on the Moon of Vega no later than tomorrow night and I'll bring you up to speed."

"But Yogurt, why are bringing this…Yogurt, are you still there?" Lone Starr asked. There was no answer from the other realm. "Figures," he shrugged, "One minute he's here, the next he's off with his Dinks selling every bit of merchandise he has."

"Well I don't know about you boss, but I'm more than up for it," Barf told him, "Whatdya say we sneak out and go for it?"

Before Lone Starr could answer, Vespa came striding up. "Here you are," she said, "You still haven't answered my question about your wardrobe."

"Right," Lone Starr said quickly, "Uh, I really had to go the bathroom, so I'll give you my opinion once I'm out."

"I'd better go too, just so it doesn't get blocked up later," Barf added, running down the hall after his boss. Vespa raised her eyebrows at them. "Wonder what's with them?" she wondered out loud, "Dinner wasn't that rotten today."

Inside the bathroom, Lone Starr locked the door and turned on the water in the sink. "That's not going to fool them forever, Boss," Barf pointed out.

"I know, but it'll probably be good enough until we're halfway to Vega," Lone Starr opened the window and climbed down the drainpipe, Barf in tow. They rushed over to their Winnebago. "Main engines engaged," the mawg announced loudly as he pressed the necessary buttons.

"Shhhhhh," Lone Starr warned him, "Not until we're home free." He turned the key in the ignition and turned the shift to Drive. Rockets roaring, the Winnebago rolled down the driveway and soared up into the Druidian sky. "OK, now you can talk as loud as you want," he told Barf.

"YIPPPEEEEE!!!" Barf yelled so loud that Lone Starr cringed, "We finally get out of that dump and get to do our own missions again."

"I know," he boss agreed as they exited through the air shield, "Maybe I'll start feeling happier again now. For a little bit anyway."


	3. The Necessary Setup Scene Chapter

THREE

Inside his large residence on Spaceball City, President Skroob was lounging in his bathtub enjoying a nice hot bubble bath. "Quarter to three, no one in the place," he was humming, squeezing his toy frog, "The people are nothing but a charity case. I say Skroob the people any day. Taxes get higher, insurance…"

Suddenly the TeleWall lit up. "President Skroob," Commanderette Zircon announced imperatively.

"YOUGGHHH!!!" Skroob jumped in shock—then dove as far down in the bubbles as he could. "Zircon, how many times have I told you never to disturb me when I'm bathing!!??" he screamed at her.

"I'm sorry sir, but I have vital news reports for you," Zircon told him, "Lord Helmet called to tell you he's headed for that yellow star as fast as he can. He expects to reach it within a solar day."

"And that's the vital report you have for me?" Skroob said sarcastically, "Boy, you must be starved for news over there."

"I'd also like to report, sir, that expeditions to other systems with Melmacians have proven successful," Zircon went on, "We have close to a dozen specimens in custody and should begin shaving them shortly. Plus, I just received word from General Mills that our droid army should be up and running any minute now, so if you have a spare moment, he requests you be present for the ceremony."

"Okay, okay, I'll get down there A.S.A.P.," Skroob said, "Continue with whatever you were doing before."

"Yes sir," Zircon saluted him as she signed off. Skroob hopped out of the tub and dried himself off with the Pizza the Hutt version of Spaceballs the Towel that was on the hangers at the moment. It was only then that he realized the servant druids had removed his clothes for cleaning before he stepped in the tub. "Stupid druids!" he groaned, rushing into his bedroom. Digging through his drawers, he came up with a pair of pajamas that would probably suit his function well enough. Throwing a smoking jacket over them, he raced barefoot up the hall. Unfortunately, the janitorial staff was mopping the floor around the far corner, so Skroob slipped and fell right on his backside. "Can't this wait until later!?" he yelled at the workmen. Not giving them a chance to answer, he picked himself up and continued running until he reached the observation balcony overlooking the courtyard below. "President Skroob salute!" ordered the commander of the troops on the balcony.

"HAIL SKROOB!!!" his men shouted, giving the salute. Skroob returned it. "So, where's General Mills?" he asked no one in particular.

"Right here, Skroob," came the eerie voice of General Mills from his left. The half-droid, half orange-hued alien came clanking toward him, a noise made all the louder by the rattling of the captured weapons from Mills's fallen foes that he always carried with him. "I take it you only got the news just now?" Mills asked him.

"Uh, no," Skroob lied. He scanned the courtyard. The sleek black prototype battle druids, ten thousand in all, lay inactive below, waiting for their first orders. "Finally, my lifelong dream realized," Skroob announced grandly, "Warfare without a human factor. They obey orders without a qualm and can take a severe beating our guardsmen can't. Not to mention that once we're at full capacity, they'll serve our manpower question well. We send them in for the first wave of attacks. Once our enemies expend all their power and energy destroying them, we send in the human troops to massacre all in sight. It'll be a…"

"Would you stop rambling on the plot details and just activate them!?" General Mills thrust a large red button into Skroob's hands, "I'm not a general without a command, you know!"

"All right, keep your bionic limbs on!" Skroob huffed. He took his place by the railing. "I dedicate these soldiers to the future military success of Planet Spaceball," he announced grandly, pressing the button.

There was a low hum as the druids below were activated. They rose up in unison and hummed out, "President Skroob salute!", giving it to their commander in chief. Skroob returned it again. "Okay boys," he told the druids over the loudspeaker next to him, "I hope you loved your christening just now. In a little bit we'll turn you loose on the innocent Druidians and let you kill them left and right. Until then, just do whatever General Mills here tells you. Now let's roll out."

"I give the order to roll out!" General Mills reprimanded him, "I am the general here!"

"Fine, have it your way," Skroob handed the megaphone to him. He walked out of the way and let Mills address the druids. "So, Ringrinch, how long will it take to get the droid factories up to peak capacity?" he asked one of his top ministers.

"If we make the workers go on a twenty-two hour shift like we suggested, probably within a week," Nute Ringrinch, Skroob's top economic advisor, told him. "To be honest, Mr. President, I'm still unsure of the logic in building an army of battle druids when we have one of the best militaries in the Frankfurt Galaxy."

"Ringrinch, one of the bad things about our planet is that we have a finite number of guys fit for Spaceball military service, even with involuntary conscription in effect," Skroob told him, "With these druids we increase our numbers to infinite levels, plus we now have the intimidation factor in our corner. And don't worry about paying for all of it. Since the Constitution clearly says that I'm by default the CEO of every company on the planet, we'll just skim funds from the public works departments if we need it."

"Well Lord Helmet doesn't think it's the best of ideas," Ringrinch admitted," I just talked with him the other week and he thinks the human factor is fine just the way it is. And I can't…"

"Ringrinch, since when has Lord Helmet ever known what he's talking about?" Skroob posed, "Now unless you've got something else important to tell me, I can't miss tonight's episode of Execution Tonight. They're killing off the three ringleaders of that arson gang I personally sentenced to death two weeks ago."

"Sir, it's unhealthy to watch that show as much as you do," Ringrinch called after Skroob as he strolled away.

"Well when I end up sick I'll call…" Skroob was interrupted as he slipped and fell on the slippery floor again. "You didn't see that!" he called back to his advisors as he squirmed embarrassed out of sight.

* * *

"Ya know Boss, I just realized something," Bard said as the Winnebago began its descent toward the Moon of Vega, "We never did pinpoint exactly where Yogurt's place is on this moon. We could search for days and not find him, especially when he keeps it so well hidden."

"Don't worry Barf, that won't be a problem at all," Lone Starr pointed out the window. Directly below them in the desert the words THIS WAY LONE STARR were spelled out in large stones, with an arrow pointing toward a bullseye of stone in the distance. "Prepare for landing," the hero said, throwing the necessary controls.

"Preparing for landing," Barf needlessly repeated, activating several more. They touched down in the center of the bullseye, where the Dinks, Yogurt's miniature assistants, ran out to meet them. "Hi little guys," Barf greeted them as he climbed down from the Winnebago, "How've you been since we last saw each other?"

"Dink, dink dink dink," one of them responded, trying to high-five the mawg. Unfortunately, Barf was too big and he was too small, and the result was that he fell flat on his face in the sand. His fellow Dinks couldn't help chuckling at this. "Dink, dink dink dink dink dink," one laugh out loud.

"Dink dink dink dink!" the first Dink shouted as he jumped back up.

"Dink dink dink dink, dink," the second Dink leered. The first one lunged out him and a fight ensued among all the Dinks until Yogurt's voice boomed out, "ENOUGH!!"

Everyone turned. The miniscule golden being was trudging toward them, looking quite upset, although it may have been because of the intense desert heat. "What in the name of Yitzhak Rabin is going on here!?" he demanded.

"Dink dink dink dink!!" the first Dink pointed accusingly at the second.

"Dink dink!!" the second yelled in protest.

"I don't want to hear any excuses, we're here on business!" Yogurt reprimanded them both. Then he turned to his disciple. "Hello Lone Starr, how's it been since the first film ended?" he asked.

"Uh, well, it's a long story, Yogurt," Lone Starr said, "You wanted me?"

"Yeah, the future of Druidia and maybe the galaxy's at stake," Yogurt said, "Walk this way and I'll tell you all about it."

He walked toward his lair in a very bizarre manner, swinging his arms crazily from side to side. Lone Starr and Barf exchanged befuddled glances, then shrugged and walked after Yogurt in the exact same way. Soon they and the Dinks were safely underground and out of the heat. "So Lone Starr," Yogurt told him, "The Spaceballs are planning to destroy Druidia again, and they're hunting down the Melmacians to get the weaponry needed for it."

"But I thought Melmac blew up?" Barf asked.

"It did," Yogurt said, "But as usual not everyone died. What I'd like you guys to do is go protect one lone Melmacian who's on this planet they call Earth in the Milky Way, better known as Reality. Dark Helmet's going after him next, and if he gets his hair, it's sayonara Druidia. I'd burn rubber if I were you, they're already halfway there."

"How do you know all this?" Lone Starr asked.

"Please, all us Dead-Eye Knights can see these things through the Schwartz," Yogurt said, "By the way, Lone Starr, here's another ring."

"But Yogurt," Lone Starr protested as the wizened being slipped it onto his finger, "You told me the Schwartz was in me."

"It is, but there's nothing that says we can't have a little insurance, is there?" Yogurt posed, "Well, no need to stay around here; get going. Helmet's on the warpath."

"Right, thanks Yogurt," Barf headed back outside. Lone Starr, however, held back. "Is there something wrong, Lone Starr?" Yogurt asked him.

"Actually, yeah, Yogurt," Lone Starr sighed, "It's me and Vespa. I…well, we….happily ever after wasn't exactly…"

"You're not happy with your relationship?" Yogurt asked, his eyebrows raised knowingly.

"Yeah," Lone Starr nodded, "I miss the thrill of being a hero for hire. And, to be honest she's better in doses. Too much and you feel…."

"OK, enough of the details, this is a spoof, not a soap opera," Yogurt waved him off, "In the meantime, I suggest you give her this when you get back to Druidia after the mission."

He handed the hero a long pink box. "Spaceballs the Love Restorer," Lone Starr read off it, "What exactly does this do to restore love?"

"I could tell you, but then we'd lose the younger audience reading this story," Yogurt said, "Now get a move on; you're dragging out the scene unnecessarily by staying this long."

"Right, bye Yogurt," Lone Starr said, putting the box under his arm as he left, "Hope I get another scene with you before it's over with."

* * *

Dot Matrix wheeled her way up the castle hallway. "Darling," she called out to Vespa, "Is something wrong?"

"Lone Starr's been in here for over a half hour," Vespa pointed to the bathroom, "I think he's got a serious constipation problem."

"Well, he has been eating a lot of dairy lately," Dot theorized. She knocked on the door. "Captain Lone Starr, you OK in there?" she called in. When she got no response, she shrugged and said, "I guess it's really that bad. He'd be more talkative if it wasn't."

"Can't be too much longer though," Vespa said, glancing up at the nearest clock, "No one can go much longer than this."


	4. Early Warning

FOUR

"I have an announcement I think you all might be interested in," Willie told the family as they sat around the table at dinner, "My office is sponsoring a Halloween party on the thirty-first, so you're all welcome to join me there. We'll have lots of food and entertainment, so…"

"Sounds great, Willie," Alf cut him off, "I'll go as Roof the Two-Headed Nurse. Let me check the costume shops on E-bay and see…."

"Alf, you can't go as Roof the Two-Headed Nurse," Willie interrupted him in return, "In fact, you can't go at all, period."

"It's a costume party, Willie, no one's going to notice or care," the alien said, "All right, if I can't be Roof, let me at least be the Headless Horseman. From what I can tell, he's sort of the symbol of Halloween down here."

"Alf, we are not going out of our way to buy you a horse," Kate sighed, frustrated, "We're all sorry you feel this way, but that's just the way it has to be."

"Oh sure, constrain the poor helpless alien," Alf said sarcastically as he wolfed down his latest helping of macaroni.

"In the meantime," Willie continued, "You know what we expect from you here at the house. No trashing it and no attracting attention to yourself. I've noticed the Ochmoneks have been especially snoopy lately, and even though it's Halloween, they're still apt to call the cops if they see a stranger in here."

"Sounds good to me, Willie," Alf said, "Apart from the fact that leaves me with practically nothing to do."

"Well, there's plenty for you to do here, Alf," Lynn tried to console him, "You can watch the TV and….well, watch the TV, and….uh…"

"Point made," Alf said, "There's only so much a couch potato can take on the tube. Even Dr. Phil's getting boring nowadays."

"Alf, just promise you won't do anything that'll embarrass us," Willie goaded him.

"You have my word," Alf told him, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have finish working on my latest screenplay."

"You're not writing a screenplay," Kate pointed out as her houseguest hopped down and trudged toward the garage.

"Exactly," Alf called back.

"Mom, Dad, are you sure we can't take him with us?" Brian asked, looking after his friend with concern.

"Honey, I know it's probably tough on Alf being here alone all the time, but it's just a risk we'll have to take," Kate told her son.

"Assuming he doesn't eat us out of house and home," Lynn pointed out.

"True," Kate agreed, "Willie, we'll have to lock all the excess food up before we go."

"Right," Willie nodded, "We'll get on it later tonight."

In the meantime, Alf entered the garage, feeling more left out than ever. He leaned on the table, on which Willie's radio now sat fully repaired. Things had never been this dull back on Melmac. What he wouldn't give for just a little chance of excitement one more time…

And then he heard the buzzing coming from Willie's radio. "S.O.S.!!" shouted a strangely familiar voice, "S.O.S., can anyone hear me?"

Alf's heart leapt at the sound of the imperiled person. He ran over to the radio and flicked it on full. "Skip, is that you!?" he asked across the cosmos.

"Gordo!" his old friend from Melmac called back. Even from where he was standing, Alf could here the sound of laser blasts being fired. "Skip, what's going on?" he asked.

"They're after us, Gordo!" Skip told him breathlessly, "They attacked New Melmac, and they've been chasing us since Algol! We can't outrun them anymore…you can't parachute, Rhonda, there's no air!"

"Rhonda's with you?" Alf felt another breeze of emotion at the mention of the love of his former life, "They haven't hurt her, have they? By the way, who are they?"

"It's Helmet, Gordo, he's coming after…Oh my God, they've started the tractor beam!!" Skip screamed. Alf could now hear a low humming in the background. "Dark Helmet?" he asked, "He got off the Planet of the Apes? I thought the intergalactic…"

More screaming caused him to stop mid-stream. "They're coming for you next, Gordon, save yourself!" he could hear Rhonda screaming at the radio, "If Helmet finds you, it's…"

And then the line went dead. "Hello!?" Alf called into it, "Rhonda, Skip, you still there?" There was no answer. Alf rushed to the window and looked up at the still light sky. "Of all the terrible fates," he said softly, "Taken by Dark Helmet. If he gives her a nose job, I'll twist his upside-down."

He thought over all he'd heard. If the Spaceballs were coming for him next as Rhonda had said, he had to protect himself somehow. But how?

"There's safety in numbers," he said out loud. But he'd be largely alone for the next couple of days. Even though he'd seen Home Alone numerous times, he knew that even the most elaborately rigged booby traps would be unlikely to stop three hundred or so heavily armed Spaceballs. And there wouldn't be many places to hide. Unless…

"I've got to make the house bigger and add more rooms," he resolved. And he had to do it quickly and without the Tanners asking too many questions. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he picked up Willie's cell phone from where it lay on the table and dialed a number he'd just happened to have memorized in the phone book. "Hello, Elton's Construction?" he asked into it, "Listen, I've got a special Halloween job for you. Send down your best crew as discreetly as you can on Halloween morning at about eight twenty. If you can do what I'm asking in seven hours or less, I'll give you an extra bonus. Now what I have in mind is…"

* * *

Several hundred miles away at the headquarters of the Alien Task Force, a corporal ran into General Darnell Valentine's office. "Sir, we've just locked onto an interesting transmission from the Small Magellanic Cloud," he announced.

"What is it?" Valentine asked him.

"Show him the tape, guys," the corporal called to two of his associates, who came back in wheeling a large tape recorder. They hit Play, and the entire conversation between Alf and his friends echoed through the halls. "The call was answered somewhere in the Los Angeles area," the corporal said once it was done, "But we couldn't get a sure trace."

"I've got a reasonably good idea," Valentine said, rising to his feet, "It's probably that same area that we keep going into every time we get a report of some kind. We'll scramble all units for intercept on Halloween night."

"But that's two nights away, sir," the corporal pointed out.

"Exactly," Valentine said, "It'll be more symbolic if we catch them on a national holiday. And besides, we'll get paid extra for it.'

* * *

Helmet, Cuckoo, and Sandurz strolled casually into Spaceball 2's docking bay. The Melmacian ship was just being pulled in. As usual, Spaceball guards surrounded the ship on all sides, making it virtually impossible for the Melmacians to have even a remote chance of escape. "Well Master," Cuckoo drawled, "We finally have them under our thumb. Let me shave them from head to toe."

He pulled out a large electric razor and revved it up. "Momentarily, Cuckoo," Helmet told his apprentice, "First I need to inform them of their dire fate."

He started toward the stairs. "So, you lowly Mel—…" he started to say, but unexpectedly tripped and fell down the last several steps. "Nobody saw that!" he yelled to all his guards.

"SAW WHAT, SIR!??" they all asked, promptly covering their crotches.

"Exactly," Helmet said, pleased. He picked himself and walked over to the Melmacians' ship's hatch. "So, you lowly Melmacians," he continued, "You thought you could outrun the imperious forces of Planet Spaceball? Well you were wrong. In due time, we will be converting all your hair into our ultimate weapon of destruction, while you will spend the rest of your miserable, worthless days eking out a living in one of our beautiful serfdom forced labor camps."

"Why serf labor and not slave labor?" Cuckoo whispered to Sandurz.

"Slaves Union wants too much for their services," Sandurz whispered back, "We have a good relationship with the Serfs Union; they don't ask for overtime pay or vacation time. I can't understand labor relations at all."

Helmet, in the meantime, yanked open the hatch, which promptly caught him in the chin and sent him reeling again. All the guards turned away until he recovered. "Out of there, all of you!" he barked, gesturing with his Schwartz. About a dozen Melmacians crawled out, their hands in the air. "Who were you contacting before we brought you in?" Helmet demanded to the captain.

"You must be deaf, Helmet, we weren't calling anyone," Skip said evasively.

"Don't try to lie to us," Sandurz skipped toward them, "We caught you on tape; you wouldn't happen to be warning a certain person named Gordo, would you?"

"It doesn't matter what you know," Rhonda spoke up passionately, "You'll never catch Gordon! He's the best Melmacian in the galaxy! He managed to survive Melmac's explosion, so he'll survive whatever you throw at him. He's resourceful, he's witty, he's…!!"

"Enough!" Helmet bellowed, "Cuckoo, get them all down to the barber shop! We're going to show them that our brand of justice is a 'cut' above the rest!!"

"Yes, Master," Cuckoo activated his four-sided Schwartz. "Start walking!" he ordered their captives. Aided by the guards, he herded the Melmacians out of the bay. Once everyone was gone, Helmet yanked up his visor. "Gordon? Gordon Shumway?" he asked out loud, "Damn, I wish the explosion had killed him!"

"My thoughts exactly, sir," Sandurz added, wincing, "His nightclub act was just plain awful."

"It's bloodlines," Helmet said, "All those Shumways were annoying idiots. From what I here the warden says about his parents in Cellblock C-9…"

"Well, anyway, if it's Gordon Shumway we're after next, we're going to need more help," Helmet said dramatically, "Sandurz, once we've looked onto the planet he's hiding out on, place a call to the best bounty hunter in the galaxy."

"You don't mean…?" Sandurz gasped.

"yes," Helmet said, "Get me….Jingo Belz."


	5. Old and New Flames

FIVE

"Can't we stop for dinner?" Barf complained, noticing a space stop on their left, "I haven't had anything to eat since that ice cream a day ago."

"Sure, why not," Lone Starr shrugged, "Helmet can't be that far ahead."

He jetted down toward the stop, parking right next to a large ship that looked remarkably like the Millennium Falcon—or was it some other ship whose name he forgot. The entered the diner and sat down at the counter. "Boy, they sure have a good selection here," Barf said, eyeing the menu, "I don't know about you, Boss, but I think I'll take the ground beef."

"Good evening gentlemen," the waitress, a buxom young woman with thick black hair approached them, "How can I help…?" Then she noticed who she was looking at. "Lone Starr!?" she gasped.

"Tripley?" the hero was just as surprised. For a moment they stared at each other blankly. Then Tripley slapped him across the face. "How dare you walk out on me for some spoiled and rotten princess!" she snarled.

"Well, I see you haven't changed," Lone Starr said, feeling his sore jaw, "How long have you been working here?"

"Eight months," Tripley said, "I suppose you've been good and happy now that you're Cosmos's Spaceman of the Year twice now."

"Yeah, well, that's not quite all it's made out to be," Lone Starr admitted, "So, you ever get married?"

"I really don't think that's your business anymore," Tripley retorted, "You gave it up when you married what's her name."

"Vespa," Barf told her.

"Well, I'm sure you and her have plenty of great midnight conversations," Tripley said dismissively.

"Well, to be honest, Tripley, I've kind of been having a little difficulty with…" Lone Starr started to say.

"May I take your order or not!?" Tripley cut him off curtly.

"Lone Starr, what the hell are you hanging around for!?" Yogurt spoke up again from the air.

"Yogurt!?" Lone Starr looked around for him.

"No, we don't have any yogurt here," Tripley said, "And you don't get dessert just like that; you need to order a main course."

"No, that's my boss; Barf and I have to get going; we'll take the soup to go," Lone Starr said.

"Fine, I'll bring the check," Tripley stormed off. "Yeah, same old Tripley," Lone Starr said nostalgically, ""Hard edged and not a drop of compassion."

"Yep, you and her had some great times together," Barf mused, "Why'd the two of you ever break it off in the first place?"

"I can't even remember," Lone Starr said, "But boy what I wouldn't give to go through it again. Some of the things we did were just so…"

There was an anguished cry from down the counter as yet another poor customer was finding out the hard way why it was a bad idea to order the special. "Well, we can come back for the check later," Lone Starr said, rising to his feet.

"Absolutely," Barf followed him back out, "It's not going anywhere."

* * *

"Make way for Jingo Belz," the guard in the hall called out to the control room.

"All rise," Sandurz ordered his men. The door rose up and in marched the worst bounty hunter in the galaxy. Jingo Belz wore a hard metallic white uniform and bubblehead that made him look like a totalitarianist snowman. "Yaho, Lord Helmet," he saluted his associate.

"Mr. Belz," Helmet greeted him, "I've called you on a vital assignment: Melmacian hunting."

"Melmacians?" Belz raised his helmet, revealing that his real head was identical to his helmet, "I haven't seen one of them around in a long time."

"Well we've got a lock on one," Helmet told him, "In about thirty-two solar hours we should be arriving at the planet harboring it. Go down and get it for us and we'll pay you fifty million spacebucks."

"Only fifty million?" Belz looked disappointed, "That's only about half of what I get usually."

Helmet groaned. "All right, how does five hundred million sound?" he said.

"Deal," Belz shook his hand.

"Sir, we don't exactly have five hundred million spacebucks on us," Sandurz whispered in his boss's ear.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Helmet whispered back. "So, Mr. Belz, is that a new freeze ray?" he asked, examining a contraption on the bounty hunter's arm.

"Yes," Belz showed it to him, "It takes my victims down to minus thirty degrees. Complete incapacitation. You know what my card says; when there's cold in the air, Jingo Belz is there."

"Sounds great," Helmet grabbed hold of the ray to look at it better—and accidentally activated it. Within seconds, he was a large ice block. "Oh dear!" Sandurz gasped, "This isn't good! Quick, unfreeze him!"

"Uh," Belz thought it over for a minute, then activated the flamethrower on his other gauntlet. Helmet was thawed out quickly. "Sandurz, what hap—OOOWWWWWWW!!!" he screamed, jumping around. Belz had thawed him out all too well, and now Helmet's outfit was scalding hot with flames. He rolled on the floor, screeching at the top of his lungs.

"Water!" Sandurz called out, "Give him water!"

"I'll save you Master!" Cuckoo ran into the control room with a bucket of water, which he proceeded to throw in Helmet's face. "Thanks," Helmet said, trying to maintain an air of dignity Fortunately for him, his rolling had put out the fire.

"For you, anything," Cuckoo smiled with a silly grin.

"We're approaching the Centuri Wormhole to the Milky Way," came an announcement from the engine room over the loudspeakers, "Please fasten your seatbelts at this time."

"Come on sir, let's get that seatbelt fastened," Sandurz looked around for a spare seat for Helmet. Finding none, he had no other option but to buckle the evil leader into his own seat, along with himself. Crewmembers couldn't help snickering at the gay connotation of this arrangement. The ship started shaking as they entered the gateway to the Milky Way. Spaceball 2's speed increased to Ridiculous to avoid being stuck in the wormhole. After about a minute of acute spaghettification, they emerged unscathed on the other end. "We're all good now sir," Sandurz unstrapped Helmet, "Are you OK?"

"Fine," Helmet said, "Now where was I?"

"I was showing you my weapons," Belz said.

"Uh, maybe later," Helmet said, "Give me the latest coordinates."

"This way sir," Sandurz led him over to Mr. Radar and flicked it on, "The target star is about there," he pointed to the upper left corner of the screen, "It's the seventh planet in."

"Good," Helmet nodded, "Mr. Belz, I want him brought in within twenty-four hours or you can forfeit the five hundred million."

"No problem there," Belz flexed his gauntlets, "You know the saying, when I get in the groove, it's Jingo all the way."

* * *

"Vespa my darling, what's the matter?" King Roland shuffled up the corridor toward the bathroom.

"My husband's been in there for the last six hours," Vespa told him, "Either he fell asleep on the toilet again, or he's passed out."

Roland knocked on the door. "Lone Starr, are you in there?" he called in.

"We already tried it, your majesty," Dot told him, "There's nothing."

Roland threw his bulk against the door, and promptly recoiled in pain. "It's sure barred well," he grimaced, "Well, no matter, I'll have the butlers bring it down. That shouldn't be too hard. Last thing I want to see is my son-in-law dead."


	6. First Contact

SIX

"So Brian, how do you like the part so far?" Kate asked her son.

"I can't believe you made me wear this stupid asparagus suit again!" Brian lamented his costume.

"Well, honey, that was the only costume we had available," his mother pointed out, "What would you have wanted to go as?"

"Roof the Two-headed Nurse."

"Roof again," Willie muttered. He fiddled with his druid costume. "Kate, this didn't shrink in the wash, did it?" he asked her.

"It shouldn't have," Kate frowned, "I haven't washed it in months."

"Hey Tanner, phone for you," one of Willie's fellow civil servants called out, holding out a wall phone.

"Thank you Rod," Willie picked it up. "Hello? Hi Raquel, is there a problem? HE'S DOING WHAT!!!!??????"

The party music abruptly stopped and everyone turned to look at Willie. He smiled nervously at this unintended attention. "I mean, are you sure?" he asked, a pale look on his face, "Well, I'll get on it right—DON'T CALL THE COPS!!!! I mean, I'm sure nothing criminal is—well, thanks for telling me."

He hung up and ran over to his family. "We have to go, right now," he said breathlessly.

"What happened?" Kate looked worried.

"I can't say here, too many people might overhear us; where's Lynn?" Willie glanced around.

"She went in the bathroom with Lash; she's been in there for about a half hour," Brian told him.

"Oh, nice," Willie groaned, knowing what this entailed, "Well, Brian, go tell her we have to leave."

"But she's in the girls' room, I can't go in there!" Brian protested.

"Close your eyes and don't look at anything," Kate instructed him. As Brian ran off, she looked Willie in the eye and said, "It's Alf, isn't it?"

"And then some," Willie admitted, "He's really gone too far this time."

* * *

"Explain to me why we're going down here when we've already hired Belz to bring in the Melmacian," Sandurz asked Helmet as the transport carrying their attack squad lurched down toward North America.

"Simply put, I don't trust the guy," Helmet said, putting his hands to his mouth as they hit a bumpy spot, "Anyone who freezes Dark Helmet solid has something to hide. Now where is the landing beacon sending us to?"

"According to the readings I'm getting right now, head down and to the left," Sandurz pointed out the window at the glowing Los Angeles basin below them, the lights twinkling in the darkness of night for this part of the world.

"Good, continue the descent," Helmet ordered the pilot. The ship zoomed down toward the Hollywood hills—and kept going into the ground as it landed, leaving a large crater a few feet from the HOLLYWOOD sign. "I told you to slow it up!" Helmet berated the pilot.

"Sorry sir," the pilot apologized.

"All out!" Sandurz screamed, noticing the W was keeling over toward them. The Spaceballs all scrambled to safety just in time. "All right," Helmet said quickly, "Cuckoo, which way to the Melmacian?"

Cuckoo activated a tracking device. "This way, Master," he said, waving to the left. The Spaceballs followed him in single file—for about fifty yards, anyway, before Cuckoo frowned and turned the tracker around; he'd been holding it upside-down. "No, this way," he said, pointing the other way.

"OOOOOOOO!!!!" Helmet threw up his hands in complete frustration, "Give me that!!" He snatched it off Cuckoo and hit it several times. "It's THIS way!" he said, waving over the hills, "And watch it. This is an alien planet; there's no knowing what we might run into!"

* * *

"I told you we should have made that left turn at Procyon," Barf told his boss as they zoomed into the solar system at well over the intergalactic speed limit.

"All right, you were right about that," Lone Starr admitted.

"I was?" Barf looked surprised, "I'm never right."

"Well you were right this time," Lone Starr told him. He checked his watch, "And it's a good thing we figured it out when we did; we're an hour behind schedule."

"There's Spaceball 2," Barf pointed to the massive ship, parked inside the asteroid belt.

"We'd better go in low," Lone Starr dipped the Winnebago as far below the asteroids as he could, "Activate the cloaking device."

"Activating the cloaking device," Barf flicked another switch. A long black cloak was released from its compartment on top of the Winnebago and slipped into place over the vehicle, completely covering it. Lone Starr flicked on the infrared scanner to maintain vision now that the windshield was completely covered. They slipped by Spaceball 2 without being spotted. "Prepare for atmospheric entry," he said.

"Preparing for atmospheric entry," Barf fastened his seatbelt as his boss dived toward the earth's atmosphere.

"Boy, I'll tell you Barf, if I could do it all over again with Tripley, I would," Lone Starr blurted out.

"That's strange," Barf said.

"What, that I could feel for the former woman of my life again?"

"No, that you could just bring that up without a lead-in sentence," Barf pointed out, "I mean, there's already been a continuity error with how long we've been gone from Druidia in the last chapter; the critics are going to come down hard on us for this."

"Who cares about the critics, Barf?" Lone Starr asked, "Point is, if you had a chance to restart a relationship after you're married, would you? I want to."

"Say, are you sure you know where the Melmacian is?" Barf asked, eager to change the subject, "We seem to be going somewhere in particular."

"I have a feeling where he is," Lone Starr told him, "I can feel the Schwartz guiding me." Then he slapped his hand to his face and said, "Boy was that a dumb line. Who wrote that?"

"Good, at least we're locked on," Barf nodded, "Now let's hope we're not too late."

* * *

"Dad, that was a one way street," Lynn pointed out as Willie made a wild turn up the wrong way street, narrowly missing some trick-or-treaters, "What exactly happened?"

Willie abruptly stopped the car and hopped out. "Oh not good, not good!" he moaned, yanking a poster off a tree. On it was written WANT TO ENJOY HALLOWEEN NIGHT? COME OT THE TANNERS ON HEMDALE AND HAVE THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE; LOOK FOR THE SIGN; PLEASE BRING YOUR CATS. "This means we can probably expect the worst," he moaned, hopping back in and speeding off again.

Kate shuddered as she read over the poster. "If he's wrecked the dining room, I'll lock him in…OH MY GOD!!!!"

They'd just pulled up in front of their house…or at least what had once been their house. Rising over the property now was a thirteen-story space hotel. A large neon sign glowing MELMAC SPRINGS LODGE blinked on and off near the top floor. And behind it an even larger purple mountain rose higher than the tallest buildings in Los Angeles. People of all ages in Halloween costumes were streaming inside

"Wow, Alf put in a roller coaster!!" Brian exclaimed, pointing up at the red steel coaster disappearing into the mountain near the summit, "I want to ride the next train!"

"We're not riding any coasters," Willie said weakly, unable to change the horrified expression from his face, "We've got to stop this before our electric bill for the month goes over the moon!!"

He and the family ran inside the fun park that had once been their quiet home. At that moment, Helmet was crossing the street waving at Jingo Belz. "Have you found them yet, Belz?" he asked the bounty hunter.

"Helmet, what are you doing here?" Belz asked, ,perturbed by his boss's intrusion into his job, "I told you I could handle this!"

"We don't trust you," Cuckoo naively admitted. Helmet slapped his hands to his face. "A thousand apologies for my apprentice, he can't keep his mouth shut," he told Belz, "The key point is, how you locked in on the Melmacian's specific location?"

"It's in one of these houses," Belz pointed around, "I was going to try them one at a time. Now if you'll let me do…"

But Helmet and the others were no longer paying attention. Cocking their laser rifles, they stormed up to the door of the nearest house. On Sandurz's nod, they kicked the door in. "Deliver the Melmacian to me!!!" Helmet shouted as loud as he could, raising his Schwartz high.

The Halloween partygoers inside, instead of being frightened by this sudden intrusion, applauded. "Not bad," a woman dressed as a banshee lauded Helmet, "That's one of the best costumes I've seen in years," she told him, handing him some candy, "Here you go."

Stunned, Helmet slowly backed out of the doorway. "You know," the woman confided in an equally confused Sandurz, "Your son seems a little old to be trick or treating. But I guess they are getting bigger these days. Well, happy Halloween." She closed the door. Helmet slowly pulled up his visor. "Sandurz," he told the colonel, "The people on this planet have very strange customs."

"Mars bars!" Cuckoo exclaimed, seeing his master's given candy, "I've got to try this!" He ran next door and tried to kick the door in himself, but only succeeded in toppling over backwards in the process. "Deliver me the Melmacian!!" he told the people inside, who gave him a strong helping of sweets. Helmet rolled his eyes. "Remind me to cut back his rations," he told Sandurz.

"He's over there," Belz pointed to the Tanners'.

"How can you be sure?" Sandurz asked.

"Because none of these other houses have a sign saying Melmac on them," Belz pointed to the "hotel's" sign.

"Right," Helmet said quickly. He pulled his visor back down. "All right men, prepare to attack!" he ordered the troops.

"Oh God, Willie, our living room!" Kate lamented, looking at it. Alf had turned it into a crypt, filled with dancing robotic skeletons and large paper mache bats. The strains of Thriller echoed loud enough to split the ears all through the house. Groups of young and old people were dancing wildly all over the place.

"The kitchen!" Willie groaned, glancing through the sliding doors, "He turned it into a swamp!!"

"Wow, he put bumper cars in the back yard!" Brian said excitedly, glancing out the window.

"Um, why don't you and your sister go out and ride them?" his mother told him, "Your father and I will look for Alf."

"No need, Kate, the old Alfer found you," came the alien's voice behind her, followed by the sound of a horse's neighing. A large black steed trotted up with "the Headless Horseman" on its back. "Forgive me if my time skills are off, but weren't you supposed to come back in another two and a half hours?" Alf posed, his voice coming out of the flaming pumpkin head.

"You!" Willie fumed, grabbing the head and shaking it. "Why isn't this burning me?" he asked out loud, amazed he was holding a fiery head and not suffering.

"It's cold heat," Alf explained, "On Melmac we'd use it all the time when we went camping and would spend our nights roasting ice cream over an open fire."

"Well, now that that's out of the way, what in God's name do you think you're doing here with our house!!!!???" Willie yelled at him.

"It's my way of enjoying Halloween and protecting myself at the same time," Alf explained, sticking his real head out of a hatch on the Horseman's chest, "I doubt you'd believe it, but the Spaceballs are coming, so protection helps."

"And who may I ask are the Spaceballs, some Melmacian hip-hop home boy band!?" Willie asked, steam still pouring from his ears.

"No, for your information, they're the baddest planet in the galaxy," Alf corrected him, "And they've been harassing us Melmacians for centuries. Every time one of us would head anywhere near Planet Spaceball, they'd board our ships and put us through unspeakable horrors the likes of which…"

"And you really expected us to believe a word you say!?" Willie screamed, his face purple with rage, "You've completely ruined our house—without asking our permission, I might add! How in the hell did you do all this, might I ask!?"

"I called Elton's Construction and asked them to do a rush job; they usually don't ask too many questions," Alf said, "I paid for it with your Master Card. Incidentally, you're now about three quarters of a million in debt."

"I'M in debt!!??" Willie extended his fingers for Alf's head, causing the Melmacian to duck back inside, "You…You've finally pushed it over the line this time, buster!!"

"Willie, the horse was in the kitchen!" Kate called in from it. Willie realized what this meant. "It didn't!?" he groaned.

"It did," Kate sighed, "This is also in here."

She carried out a basket labeled PLEASE DROP YOUR CATS HERE. At least ten felines lay meowing inside it. Both she and her husband glared hard at Alf. "It was just for the night," Alf said, tentatively sticking his head out again, "They could pick them up later. Come on, let's dance our cares away and discuss this in the morning."

He tried to steer the horse away. Shaking with abject fury, Willie ran to the wall and yanked the record player's cord out of the wall, and with it the lights as well. "This party is over!!!" he bellowed to the partygoers, "You can all go home now—with your cats! And as for you…!" he rounded on Alf, "You are finished here as far as we're concerned! Out! Out of our house, out of our life, out of our planet, and don't come back!!"

"I take it this means you'll clean the place up yourself?" Alf inquired.

"Oh no, I'm not fixing your mess!" Willie shrieked, "Now out!!!!"

He jerked his finger toward the door, where the guests were starting to shuffle out. "Kate, may I ask…" Alf tried to appeal.

"Forget it Alf," Kate folded her hands harshly across her chest, "You violated our trust by doing this without asking us. You heard my husband, leave."

"But the kids will object," Alf protested, grasping at straws.

"We'll explain it to them, and ultimately, they'll understand," Kate also pointed toward the front door. His shoulders sagging, Alf turned the horse toward the door. "Well Buckaroo, time the old Alfer rides off into the sunset," he said glumly, "Come on, I'll take you back to the petting zoo before I…"

Before he could reach the door, however, it was kicked open, and Spaceball troopers streamed in, guns raised. Recognizing the invaders, Alf quickly closed the hatch door and spurred the horse toward the bedroom. "Deliver us the Melmacian!!" Helmet ordered to anyone who cared.

"I'm sorry, we're not giving away any—did you say Melmacian?" Willie looked surprised that someone else would use the word.

"Yes," Sandurz shook his hand, "I'm Colonel Sandurz, supreme commander of the armed forces of Planet Spaceball, and we wish…"

"So you're the Spaceballs," Willie said sarcastically, "Well, I'm sure you would have made a great joke, but Alf no longer lives here, so if you don't mind, please go home."

"Spread out and find the Melmacian!!" Helmet ordered his men, who spread out throughout the house.

"Wait, what's this all about?" Kate asked the evil leader.

"That's not your concern, earth creature," Helmet told her, "Just stay out of our way and…"

"We need its hair for our weapon of mass destruction against the infidel Planet Druidia," Cuckoo cut in, "Our tracer led us to your residence."

"Well thank you, blabbermouth!" Helmet snarled at him.

"Thank you, you're very funny, now please, we've had a long and trying night, so if you will, please go trick or treat somewhere else," Willie tried to push Helmet out the door. Helmet pushed back abruptly. "No one defies Lord Dark Helmet!!" he growled, then stopped for a minute, apparently wondering if it was too clichéd a remark.

"Dark Helmet?" Willie snorted with laughter, "That's the best name you could come up with for yourself? That's not even remotely original."

Helmet raised his Schwartz high. "I'm getting tired of this!" he growled, "If you do not tell me where the Melmacian is in fifteen seconds, you will face the horrifying power of the Schwartz!"

"The Schwartz, right," Willie yawned, "You know if you were just a little more…"

Incensed, Helmet activated the Schwartz and fired a beam right at Willie's crotch. Immediately, the earthman's expression changed to one of severe pain. "WEEEEEOOOOWWWWW!!!" he shrieked, "What the hell do you put in these things!?" he wretched .

"Leave him alone!" Kate protested, swinging a lamp at Helmet, connecting with his forehead. Dazed, Helmet staggered backwards, easing up the beam on Willie. "Kate, I don't think these people are from here," he said.

"Yes, Willie, I think we could have guessed that by now," Kate said, rolling her eyes, "Let's get out of here before they do worse."

They started running toward the back door. "No one does that to my master!" Cuckoo shouted out loud. He picked up a long bazooka labeled SPACEBALLS THE STRAIGHTJACKET EJECTOR and fired twice. Moments later, Willie and Kate found themselves on the floor, wrapped in tight straightjackets. "Where the hell did they get this!?" he asked her, struggling wildly with this new predicament.

"Mom, Dad, what's going on in here?" Lynn and Brian had come back in at the sound of the shouting. "What are you doing to our mom and dad!?" the boy protested.

"They were interfering with our operation," Cuckoo said proudly, blowing the smoke off his weapon.

"Let them go!" Lynn protested, "They haven't done anything!"

Cuckoo fired the ejector again so that she and her brother were also enwrapped in straightjackets. "Good work for once, Cuckoo," Helmet congratulated his apprentice, "Keep an eye on them for me while we search out the Melmacian."

"Yes Master," Cuckoo approached the Tanners where they lay writhing on the floor. "So, who's up for a little music?" he asked, "And then without waiting for them to answer, he pulled out a harmonica and began playing an awful version of "Crocodile Rock" that made the Tanners all cringe.

* * *

Alf paced nervously around the master bedroom. "Well Lucky," he told the family cat, who'd taken refuge from the marauding Spaceball forces with him, "Amazing that we'd end up here together like this. Penned in by Spaceballs. Well, let me just say, if it comes down to a siege, you'll be my last line of defense. Or my last meal, whichever comes first.

Just then the door burst open. Surrender, Melmacian!" Belz shouted, aiming his freeze ray at him.

Alf clapped his hands to the side of his face and screamed like Macaulay Culkin. This stunned Belz just enough to give him an advantage. "Go get 'em, Luckmeister," he told the cat, throwing it in the bounty hunter's face. Belz staggered backwards trying to pry Lucky off himself. But several Spaceball troopers were right behind him. They opened fire at Alf, destroying Kate's hope chest. Ducking low to avoid the laser blasts, Alf crawled into the bathroom and locked the door. "Boy things are getting hotter in here than in Palm Springs!" he lamented. There were thuds as the Spaceballs threw themselves against the door, trying to break it down. It wouldn't hold much longer.

And then a hand touched Alf on the shoulder. He shouted in shock, then spun to face the intruder. "Captain Lone Starr," he said in surprise.

"Gordon Shumway," the hero said. He extended his hand. "Come with me if you want to live."


	7. Heading Out of this World

SEVEN

"I'm going to kill Alf for this, I swear I'm going to kill him," Kate grumbled.

"No, honey, I've got first dibs on murdering him," Willie told her, struggling wildly in his straightjacket, "I put down the first lease on this house."

"No, if I remember correctly it was the loan from my mother that got us this in the first place," Kate argued.

"No no, I distinctly remember…"

"Will you two please grow up?" Lynn interrupted, "Point is, we've got to get out of here before these goons actually try to kill us—or that clown starts singing again. I'll jump off the roof if he does another accordion solo."

"I don't know why this is so difficult," Willie said, struggling harder, "I saw a magician get out of one of these about fifteen years ago from the front row of the Orpheum, and I thought I could remember the exact sequence of moves he made. I think first I have to dislocate my shoulder, then try to move…"

"Or I could just let you out, Dad," Brian walked over to him, completely free of his straightjacket. His father did a double take. "How'd…When'd…?" he sputtered.

"It was too big," Brian held it up for Willie to see, "I could just crawl out through the neck hole. Turn around and I'll have you loose."

Before he could start, however, Helmet and Belz came back into the living room. "Hey, how'd the kid get loose?" the evil leader exclaimed

"Run Brian,run!" Kate nudged him off, then tripped Helmet when he rushed forward to try and grab her son. Belz pursued Brian out the back door. "You're not getting away from me, young one!" he shouted, firing off-target blasts from his freeze ray. From their vantage point atop a walnut tree in one of the few open spaces left in the Tanners' backyard, Lone Starr and Alf looked down at the sounds of the sounds of the blasting. "If I were you, I'd help that asparagus escape," the Melmacian said.

"Right; Barf," Lone Starr nodded to his associate, how swung himself upside down on a branch and casually plucked Brian up as he ran by. "Don't scream, don't scream," Alf reassured his friend as he was plucked down, "These guys are here for our protection."

"Well some job you guys did!" Brian berated the two interstellar visitors, "There's Spaceguns all over my house!"

"Spaceballs," Lone Starr corrected him, "And shhhh! Don't give us away to Jingo Belz."

"Where are you, kid?" the bounty hunter could be heard yelling below. The four of them looked out threw the branches as Belz looked left and right for his quarry. Finally, the big snowman shrugged in disgust and headed back into the "hotel." "Captain Lone Starr," the hero formally introduced himself to Brian, "This is my sidekick Barf."

"What planet do you come from?" Brian asked Barf, amazed at his ears and tail.

"Mawgiter," Barf told him, "I'm a mawg, half man, half dog. I'm my own best friend. You know we saw your pal Gordon here on Melmac about fifteen years ago when he was the headlining act at the Galactic Dunes Resort Hotel."

"You were in the third row on the left side, am I right?" Alf asked.

"Yeah," Lone Starr said, "And I can truly say that was the worst three hours of comedy I've ever seen."

"Thank you for your vote of confidence in my abilities, O mighty protector," Alf said sarcastically, "Now if you don't mind, there's some nice people in there I'd like to get away from Dark Helmet."

"Doesn't look like it'll be that easy," Barf said, glancing through the branches, "I think we've got company coming."

* * *

"So did you catch him?" Sandurz asked Belz as he came back into the living room.

"No," Belz shook his head, "He got away."

"Ah, no big deal," Helmet said, "He's just a kid; he won't cause us any problems." Turning back to the rest of the Tanners, he said, "So, if I am not mistaken, we were discussing the Melmacian Gordon Shumway's location?"

"You mean you haven't found him yet?" Willie asked with mock surprise, "Come on, even after he added all this stuff onto our house, don't tell me you can't find…"

"You will answer our question, or we'll resort to extreme measures," Sandurz told the earthling firmly.

"What extreme measures?" Willie tried to maintain a straight expression.

"Cuckoo," Helmet turned to his associate, "Give it to him."

"Yes Master," Cuckoo tore off Willie shoes and socks and started tickling his feet unmercifully. "Stop, stop it, please stop!" Willie said between his hysterical laughter, "I swear I have no idea where Alf went to! He disappeared after you came in! He could be anywhere!"

"And that's your final answer? Helmet asked him. He nodded to Cuckoo, who withdrew larger feathers.

"That's the honest truth, I'm telling you!" Willie protested.

"Very well," Helmet said, "You leave us no alternative but to take this ticklefest into hyperdrive. Cuckoo, let the women have it."

Before they could, however, there was the sound of vehicles driving up onto the front lawn. "This is the Alien Task Force," came General Valentine's voice over a loudspeaker, "We're here for the alien."

Helmet froze. "Sandurz, we didn't order any Alien Task Force," he told him, "Get rid of them."

"All right," Sandurz pulled out a coin, "Heads we open fire on them, tails we talk it over with them." He flipped it, picked it up, and announced, "It's heads. Open fire, men."

"Wait, that's a two headed coin you just tossed," Willie pointed out. It had landed just a few feet from him, and he'd gotten a good look at it.

"I know," Sandurz smiled, "That's one of the joys of being a Spaceball."

The Spaceball troopers rushed to the front window and began pouring harsh laser fire at the Alien Task Force. "Take cover!" General Valentine ordered his men. He crouched behind a truck and covered his head. "Sir, what are your orders?" his adjutant asked him.

"My orders, um, give me a minute," Valentine pulled out a handbook entitled THE DUMMY'S GUIDE TO HANDLING ALIEN ENCOUNTERS. "Let's see, author's biography, getting started, tips from the Men in Chartreuse, spotting alien ships," he mumbled, leafing through it, "Ah, here we go: if the alien or aliens open fire on you without provocation, this author suggests letting them have it with everything you've got. After all, they're probably not the only ones in the universe, so they're death won't be a big loss to their civilization." He rose to a squatting position and ordered, "Give them the works, boys!"

The troops answered the Spaceballs with a blistering fire. Helmet dove for cover as bazooka rounds whizzed by his helmet. "Sandurz, call the transport!" he ordered the colonel, "We can't hold out like this forever!"

"Right sir," Sandurz pulled out his radio. "Pilot, pick us up at 167 Hemdale, that's at…" he ordered, but a tank round blew the radio up in his hands, stunning him.

"Oh God, my piano!" Kate groaned as another tank shot destroyed it with a loud clanging of keys. "That's it!" she yelled at Helmet, "We're holding you responsible for every little bit of damage they inflict on this house!"

"In a few minutes, miss, you will be joining us for a nice one way trip to Planet Spaceball," Helmet said, aiming a Schwartz blast at an Alien Task Force truck, "And you'd better hope the Melmacian shows, or you won't like what happens next. Now on your feet. We have a flight to catch."

Several Spaceball troopers hauled the Tanners to their feet and pointed their laser guns in their backs. "To the roof," one ordered.

* * *

From the (relative) safety of their tree, Lone Starr and the others watched the battle unfold. "Well, I'd say we've got somewhat of an upper hand here," the hero said, noticing the large gaping holes in the front of the Tanner house and the dead Spaceballs hanging through the holes.

"True, but if they go around through the Ochmoneks, they'd have them outflanked," Alf noted, watching as the Ochmoneks' hedge was burned up by the rampant laser fire, "Five hundred spacebucks on the ATF, though."

There was a loud whooshing noise overhead. "Wow, a real spaceship!" Brian exclaimed, looking up at the Spaceball transport zooming into place.

"Yeah, and it's their ticket back home," Lone Starr said, "I'm open to any suggestions on how to stop them."

"Why? I thought our agenda was just to protect Gordon here?" Barf gestured to Alf.

"I don't know, they're making this whole story up as they go; it's too hard to keep up with it anymore," his boss said. The Spaceball transport opened fire, sending the Alien Task Force scattering.

"There goes Helmet," Barf looked through his space binoculars, "And it looks like they're taking the other residents of the dwelling with them."

"Let me see," Alf grabbed the binoculars off him and watched as the Tanners were herded up into the spaceship, Cuckoo giving Willie a gratuitous kick in the rear for good measure. "Uh oh, I guess this means I'll have to clean up the house after all," he said.

"Where are they taking my family?" Brian asked, his eyes wide with concern.

"Probably back to Spaceball City," Lone Starr guessed, "They'll probably torture them, then kill them."

"Sounds about right," Alf nodded, "They'll probably start by giving Kate a nose job. Then they'll move on to ripping out Willie's nose hairs. Then they'll stamp on his skull until he…"

"Guys, not helping!" Barf pointed to Brian, who was sobbing at the thought of his parents and sister going through everything the two of them had just described. The mawg hugged the boy close. "Don't you worry, little guy," he told him sympathetically, "We won't let any harm come to your folks."

The spaceship took off with a loud blast. "Hey, what the hell's going on out here?" came the dopey voice of Trevor Ochmonek as he came running out to see what all the action was about. His gaze went upward to the transport as it disappeared into the black of space. "What was that all about?" he asked General Valentine, who happened to be nearby.

"I can give you the answer to that,sir, if you'll look right here," General Valentine pulled out a camera-like device and flashed it in Trevor's face. "You saw no spaceship, sir," he told a blank-faced Trevor, "Light from Saturn got trapped in thermal gas pockets and made a spaceship-like glow in the sky. As for the damage here, your neighbor Mr. Tanner got careless smoking near a gas main. Now run along."

Trevor nodded and wandered off. "OK men, let's do one more check of the perimeter to make sure they're all gone," Valentine told his men, who spread out over the Tanner property.

"We've got to act fast," Lone Starr surmised out loud, "Let's get to the Winnebago and follow them."

"Yeah, but first we've got to pay the check from last time," Barf pointed out.

"Oh yeah, forgot about that," Lone Starr admitted, "Oh well, in either case we haven't got a moment to lose."

"Right, now let's find where you parked," Alf started down the tree, but slipped and crashed to the ground. "Sir, we've got something over there!" one soldier shouted, running around the corner.

General Valentine ran over to see for himself. "Catch that alien!" he shouted. His men fired away with their tasers and tranquilizers. "Sorry, no autographs," Alf called at them, diving into the bushes for safety.

"We've got him cornered; get the net," General Valentine ordered. As he ran by the tree,Barf launched himself down on top of him. "What the hell are you supposed to be, some kind of King Kong Lhasa Apso?" the general asked him.

"No, just a good guy from Mawgiter," Barf said, trying to wrestle the memory eraser out of his hands.

"A little help please?" Valentine asked his men, who piled on top of Barf. There was a big struggle, which ended with a blinding flash of light. "Barf, are you all right?" Lone Starr asked, climbing down to his sidekick, who lay hunched over, "Don't tell me you got your memory erased?"

"What erased memory?" Barf popped upright,looked completely unfazed, "Is Gordon all right?"

"Who's Gordon?" came General Valentine's voice. He and his command stared blankly ahead into space. Alf trotted over. "You know, you guys better get back to the circus," he told the entire neuralized Alien Task Force.

"Circus?" a solider asked blankly.

"Of course," Alf said matter-of-factually, "You're the Great Armini and Air Forcini clans, the best trapeze and high wire acts in circus history. If you don't get going now, the train might leave without you."

"We've got to catch that train," General Valentine rose upright, "Come on you guys, we can't miss the show."

The former soldiers scrambled off quickly. "Well, at least now they have a more meaningful career ahead of them," Alf commented.

There was a honking as Lone Starr pulled up the Winnebago alongside. "Hey Gordon, get in," he called out the window, "We've got a date with Helmet."

"Wait," Brian ran up, "I want to go too."

"I'd let him," Alf said, "Otherwise he'd have to stay with the Ochmoneks, and that's no picnic. More like a last meal, actually."

Lone Starr shrugged. "Sure, why not? We've got to appeal to the younger readers anyway," he said.

"Here you go," Barf lifted Brian up into the Winnebago, "Fasten your seatbelt back there. The negative Gs get pretty nasty during liftoff."

"So you said we're stopping at a diner?" Alf asked, plopping into the co-pilot seat next to Lone Starr, "That's good. I haven't had a cat in six months. That's torture for me."

"Yeah, I know, the old Melmacian cat craving," Lone Starr said, revving up the Winnebago's rockets, "We'll see what the menu says."

"Menu nothing, I'm starving!" Alf protested.

"Well, get out of Barf's seat and we'll get going," Lone Starr pulled out onto Hemdale, "And keep in mind I'm not paying your food bills during this little adventure."


	8. It's Ultimatum Time

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you've ever wondered whether Alf's Tanners were related to the other Tanners lurking in primetime in the late 80s, this chapter should answer that question…

EIGHT

"So, how'd you like dinner tonight?" President Skroob asked his mistresses Charlene and Marlene as they lay on his presidential bed.

"It was stimulating, Mr. President," Marlene (or was it Charlene?) told him, sighing in a contented manor, "Tell me that dessert will be just as refreshing."

"Oh you know it will," Skroob started unbuttoning his pajama top, "Now if you ladies are ready, we'll serve it right now."

Both twins giggled in delight. Skroob cracked open a nearby bottle of champagne and poured them all glasses. The three of them crawled under the covers, ready for "dessert"…

"President Skroob," Zircon announced suddenly over the TeleWall. Skroob jumped in shock, spilling champagne everywhere. "What? he shouted scrambling to put his pajamas back on..

"Sir, Lord Helmet just sent notification that he located the last Melmacian," Zircon told him, "He was unable to capture it, but he detained the people harboring it."

"What do you mean he failed to detain it?" Skroob said in a hyper voice partially out of his lingering shock and partially because of his frustration at Helmet's incompetence.

"The law enforcement officials of the planet intervened, but as I mentioned earlier, he took hostages," Zircon continued matter-of-factually, "In the meantime, he says he collected enough hair to feed the fleet of T.A.R.G.E.T.s. We should be able to initiate the first full-scale test of the explosives when they arrive back at Planet Spaceball in about fourteen hours."

"All right, we'll have the welcoming party ready for them," Skroob said, "In the meantime, don't bother me again for the rest of the night, OK?"

"Yes sir," Zircon saluted and signed off. Disinterested, Skroob turned back to the bed. "Where were we?" he asked his women.

* * *

"We're millions of miles from home," Willie muttered softly from their detention cell as Spaceball 2 lumbered back across the cosmos, "We're in the clutches of psychopaths who came for our alien. We haven't eaten in a day and a half, we have no contact with the outside world, we may never get home again, and the lavatory facilities are appalling. And I thought that weekend we spent up in San Francisco with my cousin Danny's family was terrible."

"Yeah, I thought nothing would ever top that," Kate groaned, "But this takes the cake and eats it too. If Alf shows up to rescue us, I'll turn him over to that Black Cap guy no questions asked."

"Well Mom, let's be reasonable here," Lynn argued, "I'm sure Alf didn't mean to invite these guys to our place. I mean, he's not homicidal like they seem to be."

"Oh sure, just as Alf didn't mean to burn down the kitchen, chop up the Christmas tree into firewood, and destroy the hotel in Mexico," Willie said, pounding his fist into the wall in frustration, "As I said before, he's gone too far this time, and I…yes?"

There had been a knocking at the air duct. A nervous set of eyes peered through. "Mister," he breathed, "Don't you feel strange here? I can't take it much more! I feel like the walls are closing in! I've got to get out of here!"

"Guard! Get back to work!" came Sandurz's voice from the hallway.

"Yes sir, Colonel Sandurz," the man next door said. There was a shuffling of feet as he left. Moments later the Tanners' cell door opened. "So, how have you liked our accommodations so far?" the colonel asked as he and Helmet walked in with a trio of guards.

"Well, to be honest, I'd like to complain to the manager," Willie rose to his feet, but the guards shoved him back down. "Listen, Lord Vader," he told Helmet, "Since Alf seems to be the issue here, you really don't need us anymore, so really you don't need us."

"On the contrary, we need you to lure out Gordon Shumway," Helmet said, "In a few minutes you will make an intergalactic speech to that failed yukster telling him to come out in the open if he wants to see you again."

"Well, what would you say if I told you I've washed my hands of him and therefore refuse to do it?" Willie posed.

"That you will not do, because if you do, my apprentice Count Cuckoo…" Helmet paused while the hunchbacked creature strolled forward with a barbeque of hot coals before continuing, "…will brand the word Helmet all over your pretty daughter's face!"

From seemingly out of nowhere, a dramatic piece of suspense music rang out from above. Everyone glanced upward until it stopped. "You wouldn't dare!" Kate gasped once it ended.

"Cuckoo," Helmet told his apprentice. Cuckoo shoved a branding iron into the coals. "Hot stuff coming in, and I'm not talking about myself!" he lisped, advancing toward Lynn. "Dad!" she protested, "is there really any question what to do here?"

"Uh, um, uh…" Willie wavered until Cuckoo was about five feet from his daughter. "All right, I'll do it!" he groaned, "But I hope you'd agree…"

"Thank you," Helmet took hold of Willie and dragged him out into the hall. "You'll be working with our special universal translator," the villain said, pointing to a mime standing up the corridor, "He'll be sending out your message loud and clear in case Shumway tries to play stupid. And don't think you can send him secret messages. Cuckoo, the collar."

Cuckoo produced an electric shock collar. "Uh, you don't need that," Willie gulped, "I won't be sending him any warnings."

"It doesn't matter," Helmet nodded to his apprentice, who dragged Willie away. Once they were gone, he raised his visor. "Was I too dark there, Sandurz?" he asked the colonel.

"Not at all sir, and you were in character," Sandurz told him, "We are a ruthless race of beings, after all."

"Right," Helmet nodded, "Well, we'd better get set to send that message. Jam all transmissions within twelve thousand parsecs."

"Absolutely; watch the door sir," Sandurz's warning came too late as the nearest sliding door closed on Helmet, trapping him.

* * *

"We're leaving the solar system now," Barf announced, "There go Alvin and Dave."

"There really are an Alvin and Dave?" Brian ran to the window, "Wow, it is true!"

"Well, sure, everybody in the galaxy knows about Alvin and Dave," Barf said. He leaned over and whispered to Lone Starr, "Boy, is their planet way behind the rest of the universe."

Lone Starr nodded softly as Brian hefted the camera he'd brought along and snapped pictures of the planets. "OK, everybody buckle up,we're going through the wormhole into the next sector of the galaxy," he announced over the loudspeaker.

"Say Lone Starr, how much further to that restaurant?" Alf asked from the intercom at the other end of the Winnebago, "This poor soul can't go on too much longer."

"Just about ten more minutes, keep your hair on," Lone Starr told him.

"That might be hard, since it's about this time of year that I start shedding the most, and since…"

Lone Starr disconnected. "I hate it went people take things literally," he told Barf, "And if he goes crazy at the diner, I'm tossing him out into space."

"Well you know Melmacians, boss, they can never control the urge to eat," Barf pointed out, shaking as the Winnebago made its way through the rough wormhole, "I'm surprised he hasn't started destroying our own kitchen yet."

"True, but I've got it on Orange Alert," Lone Starr said, "Good thing we have everything edible under lock and key."

They emerged unscathed from the wormhole. Ahead of them shone the lights of the space stop. "Great, another continuity error," Barf mumbled, "When will this guy realize ten minutes means ten minutes?"

"Well, better early than late," Alf shuffled into the cockpit, "As long as they at least have catfish, I'll be happy."

"What do they have to eat in space?" Brian joined his friend, "I'd like some white boiled potatoes. Or some ice cream."

"I'm sure they have some of those," Lone Starr said as he nosed the Winnebago down to a smooth landing, "But whatever you do, don't order the special."

"Why not?"

"Trust us, you don't want to," Barf told him, "And try not to get to far away from us; there's some rough people in these diners."

They strolled into the diner. "Well, it's about time you showed up again, Lone Starr," came Tripley's voice from behind them, "First you run out on me without proposing, now you run out without paying the check."

"Well you see, Tripley, we had to save Gordon here from Dark Helmet," Lone Starr pointed to Alf.

"Oh great, Gordon Shumway," Tripley grimaced, "I've seen enough of him to last a lifetime."

"Thank you," Alf bowed, "In the meantime, babe, get me a roast Manx with gravy."

"We don't serve cats here, thank you very much," Tripley said sternly.

"How about catfish?" Alf plopped down at the counter.

"I'd like white boiled potatoes," Brian tugged at Tripley's dress, "And some milk, please."

Before Tripley could comment, the video screens stationed all throughout the restaurant started fritzing out. "What the hell?" she exclaimed tapping the nearest one.

"I think I know what the problem is," Alf said, glancing at the one next to him. Purple fluid was pouring out of the top of the screen. "It's been jammed," he informed the waitress. He licked it for good measure. "With grape."

"That's impossible," Tripley mused, "Our system is internal; it's jam-proof. There's no way…now what?"

The screen had settled down. Helmet was now on it. "Good evening Frankfurt Galaxy," he announced, "We've taken the liberty of jamming all your screens to get your undivided attention. We'd now like to introduce Mr. William Tanner, who will deliver our message to you."

He stepped aside to reveal Willie seated on a stool, the translator mime on one side and a Spaceball trooper on his other side holding a laser gun to his head. "Hello," the beleaguered human said as the mime simultaneously began giving the hands gestures, "This message is for Alf, or Gordon Shumway as most of the rest of us know him. The great and powerful Lord Dark Helmet is holding Kate, Lynn, and myself prisoner. You have twenty-four hours to turn yourself in to Spaceball custody. You're to go to the memorial to Lord Helmet's father, Kerr Ash Helmet, near…Kerr Ash Helmet?" he gave a strange look off camera, "Your father's name was Kerr Ash…?"

Behind him, Cuckoo pressed the button for the shock collar. Willie tensed up and vibrated as the electricity went through his system. "All right, all right!" he groaned, "As I was saying, meet us near the statue to Lord Helmet's father on Jupiter 2 sometime within the next twenty-four hours and surrender yourself to be shaved. Fail in this, and the three of us will be killed tomorrow night on Execution Tonight, the longest running and highest rated program in the history of the Spaceball Broadcasting Company, the biggest…what is that supposed to mean?" he was distracted by some of the mime's crazy gestures. Cuckoo shocked him again. "Anyway," Willie took deep breaths, "You're to come alone; no help form Captain Lone Starr or anyone else. And try to be clean; we don't want dirty hair." He leaned forward and added, "On a personal note, Alf, let me just say, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME, YOU LOW-LIFE CREEP! I HAVEN'T EATEN, I HAVEN'T SLEPT, YOU LOUSY…!"

His next words, and many of those following, were bleeped out. Alf covered Brian's ears. "Willie, how could you!" he said in surprise, "I didn't know you watched that much Richard Pryor!"

Willie received his most violent shock to date. Helmet stepped back into frame. "I would also like to add that just in case Shumway chooses not to show at the time we just gave, I'm putting out a five million spacebuck bounty on his head, applicable to anyone who wishes to bring him in. Good luck in finding him. And now, we end this transmission with more gratuitous shocking."

He gave Cuckoo the thumbs-up, and his apprentice cranked the juice up full blast. Willie's hair jerked straight up, and smoke poured from his ears. Alongside him, the mime imitated the electrocution as the screens were returned to normal. "Howe could they do that to Dad?" Brian asked, horrified by what he'd just seen his father go through.

'Simple Brian, they're Spaceballs, nothing matters to…" Alf noticed that everyone else in the diner was now giving him strange looks. "What?" he asked.

"Oh nothing," one bearded space redneck said. Even so, there was no mistaking the clicking sounds of laser pistols being activated. "Uh, you really think Helmet's going to pay you five million big ones?" he pointed out.

"I don't care," said a space biker, hefting a sawed-off laser gun, "It's worth the potential payoff."

"How about if I give you some money out of my own bank…" Alf started to say, but a blast that just barely missed his head cut him off. "Uh, just remembered, I left my lights on," he said, inching toward the door.

There was a mad rush toward him. "Get the Melmacian!" somebody shouted. Alf dashed toward the kitchen. "Anytime you're ready, Lone Starr, you can started defending me!" he called out.

Lone Starr ran into the midst of the goons and started throwing haymakers. "Sorry boys, Yogurt says no hands on Mr. Shumway," he said.

"I already had yogurt this morning," a space trucker pummeled him in the chest and tossed him aside. Barf tried throwing a few left hooks, but a bottle to his head knocked him out as well. The trucker led the mob into the kitchen. "Come out come out wherever you are!" he called out.

Alf popped out of the nearest crock-pot. "Here's your pie sir," he said, throwing a coconut custard one into the trucker's face, "Keep the change," he said, heading for the rear exit. Unfortunately, a group of postal workers blocked his way. They hefted submachine guns and opened fire. Alf turned and headed back into the restaurant itself. The chase went around and around the dining area and kitchen about seven times before Alf jumped behind the counter when he was in a blind spot. The mob foolishly kept running around in circles several times until one of them realized Alf was no longer in front of them. There he goes!" he shouted, pointing to the Melmacian as he and Brian dragged the two space heroes out onto the space stop pad.

"Block that door," Alf instructed Brian. He ran over to a nearby interstellar rig, climbed into the cab, bent down, hotwired the engine, and pulled it up to the front door, blocking it. "Do you think you're getting a little extreme, Alf?' the boy asked him, crawling out from under the truck.

"Better safe than sorry, I always say," Alf said, throwing the gearshift into park. There was angry pounding from the mob against the blocked door. Lone Starr and Barf groaned as they came to. "What happened?" the mawg asked, rubbing his head where he'd been hit.

"Oh nothing, I almost got killed and just managed to escape, no thanks to either of you," Alf told him.

"Well, I hope you're proud of yourself," came Tripley's voice from behind her dazed ex-boyfriend, "You've managed to destroy my job in just under ten minutes."

"Well look at the good news," Alf told her, "You can still save a ton on your car insurance if you switch to Geico."

"How'd you get out here?" Lone Starr asked.

"I slipped out while they were chasing the Melmacian through the kitchen," Tripley explained, "When the customers start getting like a lynch mob, this diner's no place to be a woman. I'm going with you."

"Why?" Barf frowned.

"Because A, this story needs a strong woman, and B, there's not much left for me here," Tripley told him.

"Sure, why not?" Lone Starr shrugged, "Might as well taken in more guests."

"OK, you two work it out, I'll drive," Alf hopped into the Winnebago's cab, "Next stop, Spaceball City…I guess."


	9. This Chapter Serves Little Real Purpose

NINE

"So, where exactly are we going?" Tripley asked, sticking her head in through the curtain to the Winnebago's cockpit.

"Yogurt's," Lone Starr told her, "I need his advice on what to do with Shumway next. With the bounty Helmet's put on him, we really can't take him anywhere else right now."

"After watching him drive this thing earlier, I was really tempted to turn him in myself," Tripley admitted, "But thankfully for his sake, I can't remember Helmet's cell number."

"Neither can the rest of the galaxy, so don't feel bad," Lone Starr said, frowning as little as he thought over whether his sentence had made much sense. He glanced up at her. "So, like I asked earlier, did you ever marry?"

"No," Tripley plopped down in what was normally Barf's seat, "I couldn't find the right man. At least you found yours."

"Lately I've been questioning that choice," Lone Starr sighed, "Life after happily ever after isn't what it's made out to be."

"To be honest, I didn't think you'd last five weeks with Vespa once word of the wedding got out," Tripley told him, "What did you see in her?"

"Several things, most of which I can't say out loud here without alienating the younger readers," Lone Starr said, "To tell you the truth, Tripley, my relationship with Vespa at least on a passionate level is turning out to be a lot like Dan Versus Dave. It looked so great leading up to it, but it never materialized the way I'd hoped. I mean, on our honeymoon, everything looked so perfect—the moon was bright, the stars were shining, and the violinists Vespa requested for atmosphere outside the room played perfectly. And we did have the greatest possible sexual encounter that night—without actually having sex, that is. That's what it's like. Plus, being a prince isn't for me, I've realized too late."

"How you ever get accepted as a prince?" Tripley asked him.

"Remember my medallion?" Lone Starr pulled it up from his neck, "Yogurt told me it's a royal birth certificate. I'm a genuine prince."

"You should wash it more often," Tripley said.

"Well, I've been a bit busy lately, and the metalworkers won't…"

"Not the medallion, your neck," she said.

"Oh," Lone Starr said sheepishly, "Well, anyway, princeship isn't my cup of tea. I miss being able to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. And I'm not really that keen on succeeding King Roland. I love Druidia, but I don't want to be king."

"Well, it appears I was wrong," Tripley said, "Becoming royalty hasn't changed you at all. You're still the same Lone Starr I knew all those years ago."

"Thanks," Lone Starr forced a smile. Before the conversation could go any further, Alf strolled into the cockpit. "Hey Lone Starr, once we're done with Yogurt, we've got to stop at the nearest appliance dealer," he told the hero.

"Why?" Lone Starr frowned.

"You need a new fridge," Alf told him.

"Why? Is it broken?"

"It's gone," Tripley glanced back to see it missing.

"What did you do with it, Gordon?" Lone Starr asked the Melmacian.

"Well, you see, I couldn't break the lock to get the snack I wanted, so I…well, let's just say I more than fulfilled my iron requirement for the day,' Alf said, unable to stop a burp from erupting from his stomach.

"You ate my refrigerator?" Lone Starr jumped to his feet, "All our food was in there! What the hell are the rest of us going to eat now?"

"I was thinking Yogurt could answer that when we drop by his place," Alf told him, "Now if you'll excuse me, I was watching SCTV with Brian and Barf."

He strolled back to the rear of the Winnebago. "SCTV?" Lone Starr looked at his former love, "They actually get the feed from this part of the galaxy?"

Riotous laughter told him this was indeed the case. "I'll handle it," Tripley said. She strode back to find everyone lounged in easy chairs. "Wanna join us, Trip?" Barf said, offering a busted lawn chair for her.

"Dr. Cheryl Kinsey's going to tell us how to fake orgasms," Brian added.

"And you're actually letting a kid his age watch something like that?" Tripley gave the mawg and Melmacian harsh glares.

"Well it's a great show," Barf protested, "He's going to love the bit coming up where Johnny LaRue tries to host his own telethon…or was that Dr. Tongue?"

"And it exposes him to a new way of thinking that is usually denied the average eight year old on the Planet Earth," Alf patted Brian on the shoulder.

Tripley let out an aggravated groan. "You know something, Shumway, you're not just a terrible comedian, you're a terrible moralist. We're trying to stop the Spaceballs from killing innocent people, and you're sitting back here and watching old sketch shows!" she berated him, "And on top of that you eat not just all the food on this camper but the fridge too! Melmacians may have been a silly group of being, but you put them all to shame!"

"And happy Valentine's Day to you too, Cupid," Alf responded.

"Alf's not bad," Brian put his hand around the alien, "He's my best friend in the whole universe. He makes mistakes, but he cares deep down. Even when he screws up…which seems to happen a lot."

"You see Tripley, appearances are skin deep," Alf said triumphantly, "As a matter of fact, I've been worried sick about my adopted Earth family ever since Helmet carted them off, and believe you me, I've been pondering some new strategies that'll make old Tinhead's glasses crack. Let's just hope they survive incarceration for us to save them. Incidentally, I wonder how they're holding up."

* * *

"Look straight ahead toward the camera," the commandant of Prison Ball 37 on Spaceball City told the Tanners inside their holding cell. He turned to the gigantic camera at the other end of the room and gave the cameraman a thumbs-up. A blinding flash filled the room. "Ouch!" Willie groaned, trying to shield his eyes, "What are you trying to do, blind us?"

"That's a side effect that happens a lot, yes," the commandant said, "Now on your feet and into the next room so you can receive your incarceration instructions."

A trio of guards hauled the Tanners to their feet from the stools they'd been sitting and forced them into a small theater. "Let me guess, some corny cartoon," Kate mumbled.

"Sit down," the guards forced them into seats. "Roll it, Ares," the commandant instructed the projectionist. The screen lit up with an overly bubbly stewardess standing near the entrance to the prison ball. "Welcome to the Spaceball City Prison Complex," she announced in a happy voice, "On behalf of President Skroob and his entire cabinet, thank you for being arrested. You will now be entering the incarceration phase of your punishment. Sit back and relax while we tell you about the cells and prison ball in which you'll probably spend the rest of your natural life."

"This seals it," Willie whispered, "We're never flying on another airplane again. From now on we take the train."

"Quiet while the film's rolling," a guard whacked him in the back of the head.

"You will be kept in this eight foot by twelve foot stainless steel cell," the stewardess said as the images flowed on the screen behind her. "Please note that in the case of multiple people in one cell, only one of you will get the comfort of a bed. Your cell is watched through our closed-circuit camera system, which ensures that any attempt on your part to escape will meet with a quick and painful death. Guards will be posted outside your cell at all times, and will be more than happy to come in and blow you away at the slightest hint of trouble on your part."

"They pay us good for doing it," a guard added from the rear of the theater.

"Shhhhhhhh!" hissed the commandant.

"Exit are clearly marked throughout the prison ball," the stewardess went on, "But you will never be using them. Should you try to use them, you will be shot. In the event of fire, stay in your cells and let it burn you alive. Meals will come once a week, unless you misbehave, at which point you will be starved to death. Please remember that bathroom time is not the time to discuss escape plans. Our friendly and courteous guards will be happy to beat your face in, crush your fingers, or otherwise abuse you any time they feel like it. We hope you've enjoyed this presentation. We also hope you'll enjoy your stay here at the Spaceball City Prison Complex. Have a nice life sentence.."

"You people will be pleased to know that President Skroob has requested you be present tomorrow for the testing of our T.A.R.G.E.T. system," the commandant announced as the film ended.

"Why?" Lynn asked.

"He didn't say," the commandant admitted, "In the meantime, we'll now take you to your new home. Velono, if you please."

The guards led the Tanners down several long hallways to an open cell. "Here you go," the one named Velono said, shoving them all inside, "Sleep well."

The door slammed shut behind them. "OK, let's stay calm," Willie said, glancing around the cell's sub par furnishings, "I'm sure there's a way we can get out of here."

"Not so loud, Dad," Lynn told him, "The walls have ears."

She pointed to the innumerable human ears painted on the cell's walls. "Don't you get literal on me too," Willie groaned.

"Well, at least we know Brian's safe back on Earth," Kate slumped down on the cell's single cot, "It would have been heartbreaking for him to have been dragged into this as well. I hope he went to the police, or at least the Ochmoneks."

"Well, it's too bad Alf had to bring these people along so we'd be separated from our son," Willie grumbled, "If they don't finish him off, I will."

"Say pal, you talking about Gordo?" came a familiar voice from the adjoining cell through the air vent. "Wait a minute, I know you," Willie walked over, "It's Chip, right?"

"Skip," the Melmacian corrected him, "Where is Gordo? Is he still out of Helmet's clutches?"

"Oh, so you're Skip?" Kate joined her husband by the vent, "Well Skip, I've got just one thing to ask you: WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU PICK ALF UP WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE!"

"Hey lady, I did all I could; it was his choice not to come," Skip told her, "Why do you call him Alf anyway?"

"It's A-L-F, Alien Life Form," Willie explained, "We didn't know his name was Gordon when he crashed into…oh my God, what have they done to you?" he'd noticed that Skip no longer had any hair, a fact which caused the alien to scrunch down in shame. "They shaved off our hair. All our hair," he admitted, "They need it for their big bomb. Melmacian hair explodes violently in the wrong mix."

"Then explain to me why Alf—Gordon—wanted to invite these Spacebags down to Earth," Willie demanded.

"It's SpaceBALLS, bozo, get it right," Skip corrected him, "And Gordo didn't invite them. The day any Spaceball gets friendly with him is the days Melmac's sky turns blue…well, if there was still a Melmac, anyway."

"Why?" Lynn asked.

"Well, it's a really long story, but I think I'd better tell you anyway, so I'll let them start the next chapter while I do," Skip said, "Basically, you have to know Gordo. As a kid, he…"


	10. Arming for Action

TEN

"Any sign of Shumway yet?" Helmet asked the trooper in charge of the force he'd had staked out on Jupiter 2 for Alf on the TeleWall.

"No Lord Helmet, no Shumway and no Winnebago; no nothing, really," the trooper admitted.

"Well keep waiting," Helmet advised him, "Shumway's bound to show at one point or another."

"As you say, Lord Helmet," the trooper signed off. Helmet raised his visor. "What's taking that twit so long?" he asked Sandurz, "The last time we met up with him before Melmac was destroyed, he was willing to do whatever we told him."

"Are you sure that was Shumway, sir?" Sandurz pointed out, "That sounds more like Althouse to me."

"Ah, who knows the difference between individual Melmacians anyway?" Helmet shrugged, "Well, if Shumway cares about the people that took him in, he's got about eleven hours left to show."

"Speaking of time, sir, it's about time we fully test the T.A.R.G.E.T.s' schematics," Sandurz said, looking at his watch, "Shall we go?"

"Of course," Helmet said, pulling down the visor again, "I always like to be punctual, Sandurz. You know that."

"Of course sir," Sandurz said sycophantically.

The two of them strode down the corridors of the Capitol building to the main conference room. Numerous high-level Spaceball government officials were already milling about, murmuring to each other. In the back of the room, Cuckoo was making a few final adjustments to a large prototype T.A.R.G.E.T. set up at the back of a large launch ramp. "Is it ready, Cuckoo?" Helmet asked his protégé.

"It is all set to go once the president throws the switch, Master," Cuckoo told him, "Our guests are going to love it, aren't you?"

He turned to the Tanners, who were being held at laser rifle point by almost a half dozen guards. "Good morning Mr. Tanner," Helmet greeted Willie, "I trust you enjoyed your first and possibly only night here on Spaceball City?"

"Well it was all fine until your guards started stamping up and down the hall at four a.m. blowing their trumpets like there was no tomorrow," a bleary-eyed Willie told the evil leader.

"Ah yes, the old early reveille," Sandurz said, pride in his voice, "Nothing gets prisoners up and going like a loud trumpet blast. I should probably tell you that I've taken the liberty of pre-booking you on tonight's episode of Execution Tonight."

"You've what?" Kate's eyes went wide.

"Don't worry, if Gordon Shumway turns himself in no later than a half hour before taping, we'll push you back to next week," Cuckoo told her, "And if not, look at the bright side; you get to die on national TV. That's an honor in and of itself."

There was a loud slamming as Skroob ran into the room, accidentally nailing a technician with the door. "Sorry I'm late," he called to his ministers, oblivious to what had just happened, "I had, uh important, um, business of state to attend to."

"I'm sure he did," Helmet muttered sarcastically to Sandurz.

"General Mills, are your volunteers ready?" Skroob asked the alien-droid crossbreed.

"Yes, I have four ready to sacrifice themselves," Mills pointed to four nearby droids, who gave Skroob the national salute.

"Good for you, Mills," Skroob patted the commander on the shoulder, "When I point to them, give them their instructions." The president walked over to the microphone set up on his presidential podium and tapped it several times. "Can I have your…?" he tried to say, but the hissing was so loud that he couldn't get a word in edgewise. Rolling his eyes, he slapped the microphone so hard that it died. "Perfect!" he muttered to himself. "Can I have your attention please, gentlemen?" he shouted at the top of his lungs, "If you'll please be seated, we'll begin this demonstration."

His ministers quickly took their seats. "Now," Skroob shouted on, "As many of you know but really don't know, Planet Spaceball is going through yet another air shortage crisis as we speak. The filters in orbit around the planet are failing, and import tariffs are too high for our liking. My Minister of the Atmosphere, Mr. Dom Asshole, who has graced us with his presence today, has told…"

There was snickering from the back. "Excuse me, may I help you there?" Skroob shouted at pitch level to Willie.

"Sorry, I just…" Willie couldn't help controlling uncharacteristic laughter, "…I mean, that's really his name? Dom Asshole?"

"That's right, sir," announced a cross-eyed minister who rose to his feet, "And I'm pleased to say that many of my fellow Assholes have equally key positions in this government and military. In fact, you might say both of them are practically run by Assholes."

"Well, that's usually the case in most dictatorships," Willie pointed out.

"Thank you for your not so kind words, buddy," Skroob told the earthling, "Now if you'll please, sit back down and put a cork in it for the rest of this presentation. Anyway, as I was saying, Mr. Asshole has informed me that at the current rate of decline, we'll be completely out of air within two years. I for one am not going to let that happen, not when our neighbor Planet Druidia has a ten thousand year air supply of its own that it just refuses to share with us because we're evil. So, you may ask, how do we get that air, without resorting to some hackneyed plan that's been done a million times before? Well gentlemen, the answer is the easy way out; we simply blow it up with one hand and suck the air with the other; in short, we suck and blow—and no, I'm not alluding to what we do when our wives' backs are turned. And for this purpose, I give to you our new weapon of mass destruction, the T.A.R.G.E.T.!"

He gestured grandly to the T.A.R.G.E.T at the back of the conference room. Cuckoo threw the switch on the spotlight overlooking the vehicle, which Charlene and Marlene—having snuck in during the opening address—proceeded to model for. "Each T.A.R.G.E.T. has a Mach IX V8,000,000 horsepower engine, and can go from zero to sixty billion in two seconds," Skroob informed his ministers, "It also comes with power windows, AM/FM stereo, Scotch guard, cruise control, optional dual side climate control, and California emission. Underneath the hood is a fifty gigaton warhead made up of nitroglycerin, Melmacian hair, and one of our commander Colonel Sandurz's secret recipes."

It was Lynn's turn to break up. "Do you have something to say, young lady?" Skroob asked her.

"Oh nothing, but I'm sure the Colonel's secret recipe's a nice juicy one," Lynn chuckled, "And why honestly would you name a weapon a T.A.R.G.E.T.? it makes no sense."

Skroob ignored the question. "Anyway, as I was going to say before I was cut off AGAIN, we will now demonstrate for you the probable effects to T.A.R.G.E.T. will have on Planet Druidia once we launch the existing models from our base on Exodosus," he continued. He lifted a remote control and pressed the button that he thought would open the bay doors in the front of the conference room. Nothing seemed to be happening, however. "Strange, very strange," he muttered as he clicked the button over and over again, "Why won't this damn thing work?" He kept clicking, and managed to turn out the lights in the room, activate a stereo system hidden somewhere, switch to a channel showing the soap opera As the Galaxy Spins, and start the whole room spinning around in circles (it was apparently built on a turntable of some kind) before one of his aides took the remote off him and pressed the correct button. Skroob winked at him as the bay doors opened. "Now," he continued to his nauseated ministers, "As you'll on the monitors in front of you, we'll built an exact replica of Druidia, right down to the Druidians themselves in the asteroid field 5 parsecs from here. Press the buttons in front of you to change to a different camera angle at any point.

"Amazing," Kate mused as she and her husband and daughter examined their screen, "It's an almost perfect match…well, except for those dumb looking people nodding their heads.

"It looks a scene from Blazing Saddles," Willie agreed, "Almost too much so."

"Here's how it'll work," Skroob explained, "Once the launch trench alignment with Druidia is perfect three days from now, we'll use our satellites to open the air shield." He pressed out the combination on the keypad in front of himself, "After it opened,…This'll have to be quick, Mr. Tanner, we haven't got all day here."

"Um, sorry Mr. President, but you typed in 1-2-3-4-5 as the combination," Willie pointed out.

"And?" Skroob raised an eyebrow.

"Oh nothing, it's just, um, that's, that's exactly the type of combination an idiot would have on his luggage."

Skroob grunted uncomfortably. "As I was trying to say, we then have our men board the T.A.R.G.E.T.s," the president nodded to General Mills, who pointed first at his volunteer droids and then at the T.A.R.G.E.T. Saluting both him and Skroob, the droids climbed into the vehicle and strapped themselves into each of the four seats inside. Cuckoo slid the hatch shut behind them. Skroob turned a large dial on the podium marked START T.A.R.G.E.T. The sound of the giant engine roaring to life caused everyone in the room to cover their ears in pain. "OK, keep your eyes open," Skroob told them all, even though no one was listening anymore, "'Cause here we go."

He inserted a key into a lock labeled LAUNCH—the wrong way. In his efforts to get it back out, he broke the key. "Hey Belz, give me a hand here," he called over to the bounty hunter, who'd been standing up against the back wall with little to do. Jingo strolled over, examined the lock, and iced it with his freeze ray. Smashing the frozen lock, the big snowman reached inside and twisted it manually. The T.A.R.G.E.T. rocketed up the ramp—setting on fire several technicians who'd been standing right behind the jets—and out into space. Skroob pressed another button on the podium. "The air retrieval unit is now armed, gentlemen," he told his ministers now that the room had quieted down, "Once the warhead is detonated, it'll suck up every breath of the air we put inside the fake Druidia it can. Speaking of detonation, put on your protective goggles now, because we've got impact in five, four, three, two, one…"

On every monitor in the room, the T.A.R.G.E.T. reached the fake Druidia and exploded in a huge flash of white light. A loud sucking sound was heard over the explosion. Out of the bright white glow, a small circular probe zipped back across the stars toward Planet Spaceball. It reentered the conference room through the bay doors and landed on the floor—seconds before a blast of radiation, rock, and droid limbs rained down on everyone. Skroob strolled over and picked up the probe. "As you can see, gentlemen, it's taken up every bit of air it could," he said, pointing to the gauge on the side reading FULL. He didn't seem to notice or care that everybody's hair was now standing straight up from the radiation. "In short, we will soon have all of Druidia air for ten thousand years of use and be rid of them once and for all. Are they any questions?"

"Can we get this on video?" one minister asked, watching the explosion on instant replay on his monitor.

"We'll save the destruction of Druidia itself for a DVD release," Skroob said, "In the meantime, this concludes our little meeting. You can go and decontaminate yourselves now, gentlemen, thank you."

The ministers gave a polite applause, quickly rose, and headed for the exits. Skroob strolled to the back of the room. "Well Lord Helmet, did I tell you this would be a good idea or what?" he asked his evil lieutenant.

"Well, let's just say it makes more sense than Armageddon did," Helmet said, forcing a smile.

"Are you kidding?" Lynn spoke up, "I love Armageddon."

"So, did you folks like it?" Skroob asked the Tanners.

"Uh, it was, um, uh, very interesting," Willie said, "Now, uh, if you have a minute, I'd like to file a formal grievance against your associates here. They've violated about a hundred of our civil rights in the last twenty-four hours."

"Are you serious?" Skroob laughed, "Violating other beings' civil rights is every Spaceball's born right. We wouldn't be Spaceballs if we didn't. But I'll tell you what. If your Melmacian doesn't show, I'll let you plead your case on TV tonight to the public when you get your last words. It'll make your death more entertaining."

"Wait, you're actually serious about this whole execution thing?" Willie's expression went quite flat.

"Of course you dummy," Cuckoo gave him a shove to his feet, "Now it's time to go back to your cell and await the final countdown."

Pointing his own Schwartz ring at them, he and several guards herded the Tanners out of the conference room. Helmet raised his visor once they were gone. "Boy, is that guy a weenie," he confided in Sandurz.

"And then some sir," Sandurz agreed. He turned to Skroob. "Well Mr. President, would you like us here for the execution."

"Probably a good idea," Skroob surmised, "There's no telling if Lone Starr might try anything, wherever he is now."

* * *

"Hey Yogurt," Lone Starr knocked on the doors to Yogurt's lair, "You in there?"

One of the Dinks opened the doors. "Dink dink?" he asked, surprised to see the hero back so soon.

"We need weapons," Barf told him, "Can you get him for us?"

"Dink dink dink," the Dink waved them all in. "Dink dink dink," he called up the hall. Yogurt came shuffling up. "Well boys, you're back ahead of schedule," he told them.

"They're going to kill Shumway's adopted family," Lone Starr pointed to Alf, "We've decided to take the Schwartzenegger approach and go in and get them out. We need all the weaponry you have."

"Weapons, you say?" Yogurt's ears flicked, "Well Lone Star, you picked the right day. We just a big shipment of weapon merchandise from my pal Mace Spraycan this afternoon. Rinky, go bring out the manifolds."

"Dink dink," the nearest Dink scrambled off. "So you're the great and mighty Yogurt?" Brian asked the being, "Alf says you're the most powerful guy in the Frankfurt Galaxy. Can I have your autograph?"

"Sure, why not?" Yogurt drew out a pencil and paper and signed his name, along with, "MAY THE SCHWARTZ BE WITH YOU." "That'll be worth a lot when this story goes to paperback," he told the boy.

"I hope you've got something that I can use," Alf sided up alongside Yogurt, "After all, I've been wanted to get back at Helmet ever since he made space goose calls over my performance on Emak 9."

"We've got a little something for everyone here; here it comes now," Yogurt pointed to large cart full of numerous weapons being pulled by three Dinks. "Take whatever you want, we've got the works here," Yogurt pointed to the huge arsenal, "Spaceballs the blasters, Spaceballs the Land Mines, Spaceballs the Departiclizer, Spaceballs the Flamethrower—for the kids, you know—Spaceballs the Energy Vacuum—we put the franchise name on everything. Here you go Mr. Shumway, your special weapon, Spaceballs the Pancake Tosser."

He handed it to Alf. "Good," Alf said, examining it, "I should have called you a few days ago for it before Helmet landed. But better late than never I say."

"Yogurt," Tripley spoke up for the first time, "I'm kind of new to these things, and…"

"Miss Tripley, pleasure meet you again," Yogurt shook her hand, "Don't worry, I've got just the thing for you; Spaceballs the Indestructo Suit."

He pulled out a large suit with laser rifles for arms. "Very nice," Tripley said, looking it over with excitement, "It's almost like the one I had when I roasted all those ice cream monsters on Bondar 44."

"And for our junior hero, our special of the day, Spaceballs the Water Cannon," Yogurt handed Brian a protracted water pistol. "I…I don't really want to hurt anyone," Brian told him, "I just want my family to be safe."

"This won't hurt anyone—except the droids it'll short circuit," Yogurt told him.

"Thanks Yogurt, this helps a lot," Lone Starr shook his mentor's hand.

"Good," Yogurt told him, "Now get going; you've got five hours left to save the day."

He walked off. Everyone stared around blankly. "Uh, is this the end of the chapter?" Barf asked, "That was rather abrupt."

"Well, we can't just stand around here and let this be dead air," Alf picked up a laser rifle and cocked it. "It's show time!" he announced in a macho voice.


	11. Execution Tonight

ELEVEN

"It's no use," King Roland shook his head as the water from the running sink in the bathroom was spilling out into the hall, "We're going to have to break it down. Somebody get the battering ram."

"No Daddy, you can't!" Vespa protested.

"Vespa my child, something might have happened to your husband," her father pointed out.

"But if you break the door down, you'll wreck the ivory hinges!" Vespa cried, "This castle can't afford the cost of replacing them if they're destroyed!"

Roland groaned. "All right Vespa, we won't use the ram," he sighed, "We'll just have to take it off its hinges manually. Porter, see if you can find the royal disassembler somewhere on the grounds."

"Whatsa goin' on here?" came the repulsive voice of the least liked inhabitant of Roland's castle. Tar-Tar, a hideous lime gangly…thing came striding up the hall. "Issa something' goin' on with Captain Lone Starr sir?"

"Uh, we've got it under control, Tar-Tar," the king said quickly, "Thanks for your offer, though."

"Uh oh, the sink, she'sa broke!" Tar-Tar exclaimed, noticing the water spillage, "Don'ta worry Captain Lone Starr, meesa save you!" he shouted, tearing at the door.

"Break that door and you're a dead-thing!" Vespa yelled, hitting him on the shoulder. "Ow! Thata hurt bad!" Tar-Tar complained.

"Dot, why don't you take Tar-Tar outside and try to tell him about the situation here," Roland asked the droidette.

"Why me, sir? "Dot asked, desperate not to do it. Roland gave her a look that told her she'd better do it or else. Sighing, she took Tar-Tar by the hand and rolled off with him, saying, "Well, I guess you could say..."

"A few days ago, a group of interplanetary beings found themselves under attack by the ruthless Spaceball army. These beings promptly escaped from the clutches of Dark Helmet to the deep reaches of space. Today still wanted by the Spaceballs, they exist thirsting for justice and peace. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you could hire the ALF team."

"Hey Shumway, give it a rest," Lone Starr called to him, "You're starting to get on my nerves with those fake promos."

"Well, just thought you'd like to hear one more," Alf shrugged. He glanced up at the clock on the wall of the Winnebago. "Well, it looks like we're definitely going to have to go into Spaceball City now," he said, "The day Helmet gave's up."

"Well, let's hope a couple squadrons are camped at Kerr Ash Helmet's statue on Jupiter 2," Barf said, helping himself to a bowl of Dog Star Kibbles 'n Bits, "The less we have to go through on Spaceball City, the better."

"I knew Kerr Ash Helmet," Alf commented, "We fought together in the Drone Wars. He got his head cut off."

"The Drones cut his head off?" Brian asked.

"No, he was trying to open a can of chicken noodle soup and was leaning too close to the opener," Alf explained, "He never did have much sense with mechanical things."

"I thought you Melmacians only fought in one war?" Tripley asked, trying out the arms of the Indestructo Suit Yogurt had given her.

"As a whole we did, but this one night I was just finishing my sit-down routine, and the next things I knew this conehead guy swept me from my dressing room and put me in his spaceship," Alf told her, "He said they needed every available person to fight the Drones. The rest was a blur.'

"Well tonight can't be a blur," Lone Starr said, typing in coordinates to the Winnebago's computer, "Better we go in, get the people you need, and get out. The longer we stay around, Shumway, the more danger you're in."

"I don't care about personal danger, Lone Starr," Alf cocked a disintegrating pistol, "The primary concern for me is the safety of the people I love. And incidentally, I have just the plan that'll get us past security without being detected."

"Oh do you?" Lone Starr raised his eyebrow.

"Why do I get the distinct impression no one here trusts the hairy guy?" Alf asked Brian.

"Maybe because they don't?" Brian shrugged.

"Well we'll change that tonight," Alf started rooting through the Winnebago's dressers. "Hey Barfo, come here when you've got a spare minute. This plan of mine involves you heavily."

The Tanners' cell door opened. "OK you three," buzzed a droid with a laser gun, "Time to die on national TV. On your feet."

"But the twenty-four hours aren't up yet!" Willie protested, showing the droid his watch, "Alf still has twenty-one minutes!"

"You think he'd show up now if he hasn't already?" posed another droid, joining its associate, "Hands in the air and be silent during contestant processing."

"Listen, we'd rather just die normally, and not on your shows," Kate tried to appeal to the druids as they hustled her and her family out into the hallway, "I mean, I'm sure there's more worthy…contestants than we are."

"Sorry, we've already put you on the promos, and we don't want to disappoint the viewing public," said a Spaceball dressed in a fancy tuxedo with a clipboard, "Here, sign these release forms exonerating us from any liability in your expirations later."

"Uh, don't we get a phone call?" Lynn asked as one of the guards slapped a nametag saying HELLO MY NAME IS LINNE on her chest, "I wouldn't mind calling my brother and telling him to, well, you know, to look for us on TV tonight."

"Sorry, Bell Galactic service is out for this galaxy," the "producer" said, "Guards, would you be so kind to escort these contestants over to Studio 66?"

"Move it," the guards and droids pushed the Tanners most unkindly through the halls of the Spaceball prison complex and through several other facilities before arriving at the wings of a large television studio. About two dozen other convicts, some of them completely different species, were being held outside two large doors with a sign saying DO NOT ENTER STUDIO WHEN RED LIGHT IS FLASHING OR ANY OTHER TIME; THIS DOES MEAN YOU. "Line up," a guard stationed near the doors ordered, waving a laser gun at the prisoners, "We need you to be in the order you're going on the air. You, pull in your tentacles."

A squid-like alien growled angrily at the request, but several lasers in its face made it back off. Satisfied all was ready, the producer announced, "Three minutes to tape," and walked off. "Uh, pardon me," Willie tapped the convict in front of him on the back, "What are they executing you for?"

"Being in too many bad moods," the convict told him.

"Oh," Willie frowned, "Well, I guess there's nothing on this planet that's sacred. We're in for harboring a Melmacian, and frankly I think we got a bum rap."

"Melmacian?" the convict looked him over, "Well, now I can understand why you're here. Nobody in this whole galaxy likes a Melmacian. They're among the most irritating forms of life imaginable. And anyone who harbors them s even worse. Now I know why they saved the atom chamber for you."

"Wait, what's the atom chamber?" Kate asked, not liking the sound of this.

"Oh, it's the punishment they always save for the end of the show," another prisoner piped up, "I should know. I was the technical director for the last five years. Up until two hours ago."

"What did you do to get here?" Lynn asked.

"They switched over to a droid production crew, so we human staff members got the death sentence," the prisoner said glumly. A group of people behind him grunted in agreement.

"President Skroob salute!" came the call up the hall. Skroob and his entourage were walking toward the convicts under heavy guard. "HAIL SKROOB!" the guards all shouted, giving the salute.

"Mr. President, Mr. President, please, I need to file an appeal!" Willie screamed in Skroob's direction, "We're innocent, I swear! Come on, what do you say, grant us a pardon and…"

Ah, shut it pal!" Helmet shouted at him, "We're Spaceballs, we don't give pardons."

"You tell him, Lord Helmet," Skroob nodded to his associate. As the group passed through a large doorway heading for a private booth, the president told a guard, "Lock it down." The guard nodded and hit a button on the wall. No fewer than eight heavy vault-like blast doors lowered into place and locked. "Extra security," the former technical director told the Tanners, "No point in risking the president's life when there's a million unhappy felons around…as if you couldn't have already guessed."

"Quiet for taping in five, four, three, two, one," came a droid's voice over the hallway intercom. Several monitors in the vicinity were turned on. "This is SBC, Planet Spaceball's best and only TV network," said an announcer over an off-key chime arrangement done against the SBC space turkey and its discolored tail feathers.

"COME HOME TO S-B-C!" announced the network chorus. The monitors cut to shots inside the studio, where multi-colored strobe lights were flashing wildly all around. "Live from Spaceball City, it's everyone's favorite show, Execution Tonight!" boomed the studio announcer over wild cheering from the audience, "Tonight, we bring you Judgment Day for two liberals, who face the hydra monster pit. Planet Spaceball's top thief gets locked in an airless safe and slowly suffocates. And a bunch of Melmacian hoarders trying to stop our efforts to keep your air plentiful and fresh face the worst death of all, the atom chamber! Special music guests include your personal favorite, Jichael Maxson!"

"Jichael Maxson?" Kate raised her eyebrows, puzzled, "You don't think they could mean…?"

"Kate, the way they think on this planet, it probably is," Willie said, "But if he makes a move for Lynn, I'll wring his neck."

"Well it would be worse if Brian were here," Kate said, nodding slowly, "He probably be all over…"

The look of discomfort on her husband's face made her stop. "And now, here's the host of Execution Tonight, Spike Tougher!" the announcer bellowed. Tougher, a clean-cut Spaceball in a pure white suit, rose magically out of the floor. "Good evening Planet Spaceball!" he called out to the wildly cheering audience, "We're so glad you could join us tonight. We'd especially like to thank President Skroob and his staff for stopping by for this evening's show."

Inside their bombproof, bulletproof, waterproof, electric proof, soundproof, and just-about-everything-else-you-could-name-proof booth, Skroob rose to his feet and bowed gracelessly to the audience. "Ah, my public, how they love me," he said to no one in particular.

"Yeah, but not as much as he loves himself," Helmet grumbled to Sandurz.

"Shhhhh!" General Mills whispered to them. The half-alien, half-droid pushed up the volume on his personal monitor to almost full level. "And now, ARE YOU READY?" Tougher announced to the audience.

"YEAH!" they yelled back.

"Well then, on behalf of President Skroob and his staff, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages……..LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLET'S GET READY TO KILL SOME PEOPLE!" Tougher shouted, eliciting a huge cheer. "Now we'll turn the proceedings over to my associate Lotto, who'll bring out our first special guests of the night; Lotto?"

Lotto, a large red humanoid cockroach, buzzed out into sight. "Well Spike," he said in a German accent, "Our first guests is Oliver East, disgraced guard, who let Druidian freighters pass right under our radar beams and almost attack this beautiful planet of ours. You know what that means, folks? We're going to put him on the…"

"WHEEL…OF…MISFORTUNE! the audience shouted out. Several droids wheeled out a large vertical wheel. At the front of the prisoner line, several more droids dragged a kicking and screaming East into the studio and strapped him to the wheel. "That's right, it's time to spin the Wheel of Misfortune," Tougher announced, taking hold, of one end of the wheel, "Lotto and I'll give it a whirl to decide Oliver's fate. Whatever happens, parents, let your kids see it. It'll make them real Spaceballs. Ready Lotto?"

"I'm always ready, Spike," Lotto said, taking the other end of the wheel.

"Then HERE WE GO!" Tougher and Lotto gave the wheel a strong spin. After about five revolutions, it came to a stop on Flaming Death. "Well Oliver, looks like you've got a date with the lava pit," Tougher told East, pulling a level. A trapdoor underneath the wheel opened, and East was dumped into a fiery pit below. Flames rose high as he was scalded to death. In the hallway, the Tanners grimaced at the views being shown from the cameras inside the pit. "Yes, I was right," Willie groaned, "These people are definitely the most repugnant in the universe."

"I'd like to announce that I'll never watch Fear Factor again when your backs are turned," an equally turned off Lynn told him and her mother.

"Wait, you've been watching that?" Kate raised her eyebrows at her daughter.

"How about that lava pit, folks?" Tougher asked the cheering crowd, "Well, there's more people to get rid of tonight, so let's bring out our next contestant…"

"So he said, 'I know what the punch line is, rectum damn near killed him,'" the guard near the entrance of the Spaceball entertainment complex said to his partner, "But I told him no, that's not it at all. It's…wait, give me a minute, I…"

Just then the doorbell rang. "Pizza Saucer, special delivery!" rang out an unfamiliar voice. Both guards jumped and drew their rifles. "Identify yourself!" the second one shouted.

"I just did," the person outside said.

"Oh," the guard said sheepishly, "But we didn't order a pizza."

"It's free and on us," the deliverer said. Their mouths watering, the guards foolishly opened the door. "Here's your pie, sir," Alf said, throwing the pizza into the nearest guard's face.

"And here's yours," Barf hit the other in the face with a second one. Both guards staggered backwards. "Anchovies!" the first one groaned, "I hate anchovies!"

"Tripley, if you please," Alf stepped aside as Lone Starr's ex-lover stomped forwarding her Indestructo Suit. Setting an internal dial to taster, she shocked both guards into silence. Lone Starr then stepped up and conked them out with a lead pipe. "Good work all," he told everyone, "Now we've got to find out where they tape Execution Tonight."

"Let's see," Alf consulted a map on the nearby wall, "We're here, near It's a Small War, um…it looks like it's about two studios down and three studios over. I think we should pose as door to door salesman this time, pretend we're selling doorknobs."

"Or better yet, let's just knock out the guards and storm the place firing away with everything we've got?" Tripley suggested.

"That'll work too," Alf shrugged.

"What do I do?" Brian asked, siding up alongside his friend.

"Stay close to the old Alfer," the Melmacian told him, "And take comfort in the fact that I'll probably take a laser blast for you."

"Thanks," this didn't really comfort Brian.

"Someone's coming," Barf pointed up the hall where an advancing patrol was heard stomping. With no other open options, everyone froze in ridiculous poses. Somehow this ludicrous plot worked; the guards walked right by the obvious intruders without noticing them in the least. "That was close," the mawg commented once they were past.

"Well, we haven't got a moment to lose," Lone Starr said, glancing at a watch on his wrist that wasn't there, "Let's get cracking."

The five of them strode up the hall until they came upon another guard stationed near the audience entrance at a checkpoint with a sign labeled NO UNAUTHORIZED OR AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL PERMITTED BEYOND THIS POINT. Lone Starr waved for the others to wait where they were, then crept up behind the guard and walloped him on the head with the lead pipe. This didn't have the effect he'd hoped for, though; the guard, instead of falling unconscious to the ground, clutched his head and howled in pain. Stunned, Lone Starr looked around and saw a glass soda bottle on the ground. He picked it up and hit the guard with that. "OW! OO! OUCH!" the guard continued to yell, "You broke my skull! You broke my skull! You broke…!"

Lone Starr spun him around and slugged him in the face, but this also failed to knock him out. "My jaw! You broke my jaw!" he screeched loud enough to wake the dead on every planet without ten parsecs.

"Uh, a little help please?" Lone Starr appealed to his comrades. Barf stepped forward and delivered a one-two combination to the guard's chest. "My kidneys! You smashed my kidneys!" the guard screamed onward.

"Let me," Brian ran forward and punched the guard in his reproductive organ. "MY BALLS! YOU HIT…!" the guard finally keeled unconscious to the floor-but not before hitting the alarm on the wall. Sirens wailed throughout the complex. "Well, we've pretty much run out of options," Lone Starr said, pulling Brian close, "We've got to use the ducts."

"Sure, but explain to me why they always use ducts in these types of stories," Alf said as they ran for the nearest vent.

"Once this is over, I want to head back to Exodosus and get the rest of the T.A.R.G.E.T.s we've got armed and ready to go," Helmet said, checking his watch, "We're behind schedule as it is."

"What's the matter Helmet, not having fun?" Belz asked him almost derivatively.

"Of course I'm having fun!" Helmet retorted, "I loved Clock Game a few minutes ago, even though Tougher and Lotto had to stall so the bomb's clock would reach zero and blow that Termathian up. This is why we watch Execution Tonight."

"And for the Solid Platinum Dancers, "Cuckoo pointed to the attractive Spaceball women dancing along with Jichael Maxson as he crooned away about how big and nasty the Spaceball race was, along with high pitched and pointless squeaks.

"Well, it looks like we're at the end, so we'll…" it was then that Skroob noticed the alarm buzzers ringing next to his armchair. "Oh boy, what's this now?" he frowned.

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for," Tougher announced to the crowd down in the studio, "It's time to bring out the atom chamber!"

The crowd burst into huge cheers. The guards outside the studio forced the Tanners into the studio, where a droid took hold of each of them. "Mr. William Tanner and family, you have the good fortune to now take your seat in the atom chamber," Tougher said, pointing to a large glass rectangular chamber at the far end of the studio, "Once we press the button, the laser there will activate the hidden nuclear properties in the chamber, and the resulting fission reaction will disintegrate you in seconds. Quick and painful, yet fun to watch. Any last words?"

"Uh, yes, I'd like to say some last words," a weak Willie strolled over to the host's podium, "I'd like to say that, even though you're about to murder us in cold blood for crimes we didn't commit, we're going to go strongly and without qualms. We are after all men and not mice. Our hearts are strong, and we won't feel…I mean to say, you may take our lives, but you will never take our humanity. For we will live on in spirit even though our…" At this point he proved unable to keep up the charade any more and collapsed into a sobbing heap on the ground. "Oh PLEASE don't kill us!" he sobbed, tugging on Tougher's pant collar, "I don't want to die! I'm too young to die! I'm too ME to die!"

"On your feet, inferior species," a droid hauled him to his feet and dragged him into the atom chamber. "Very nice Willie," Kate derided her husband as they were locked into chairs inside, "Short and utterly pointless."

"You're welcome," Willie told her. Seeing their prisoners were now firmly restrained, the droids shut the chamber and locked it. A sinister-looking laser was wheeled into place near an opening in the chamber. "Everyone ready?" Tougher asked the crowd. Without even waiting for the enthusiastic response, he told the droid manning it, "Let them have it." The droid nodded and hit a button on the side. The laser slowly roared to life. The Tanners gulped nervously and closed their eyes, expecting the end…

Just then a loud blast erupted from the vents. In the smoke and confusion that followed, Lone Starr jumped out and aimed his Schwartz at the laser, causing it to turn sideways just as it reached full power. A red beam shot out and hit a droid, disintegrating it in a blast of colorful circles. The hero activated the Schwartz's long orange beam and set about nailing every droid that came at him firing its laser. Barf jumped in with laser fire from one of the rifles Yogurt had given him on discount, destroying the rest of the droids. Then the mawg turned his fire on the laser, blowing it up in a blast of sparks. "My beautiful laser!" Tougher lamented, looking over the wreck of his machine, "This cost me two hundred grand I don't have!"

He reached into his pocket for a laser of his own. Lone Starr reached him first and held the Schwartz to his head. "Don't even think about it," he told the host, "Your show's been cancelled."

"You talking to me?" Alf asked over his shoulder.

'No!" Lone Starr shouted. "Go let your friends out."

"Well folks, it looks like we'll have to end the show early tonight, so this is Spike Tougher saying, 'HELLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPP!'" the host shouted at the camera. Once the red tally light went out, he dove cowardly down through the hole in the floor he'd entered in. There was a low thump below, followed by Tougher moaning, "OUCH!"

In the meantime, Alf ran over to the atom chamber and blasted off the lock with the smallest gun he had. This gun had a tremendous recoil, sending him flying halfway back across the room. Shaking himself off, he thrust open the door and hit the main switch to unlock his adopted family from their seats. "Alf, how did you find us?" Lynn asked him excitedly.

"Oh, I have my methods," Alf said flexing his muscles coolly, "I believe some thanks are in order, Willie?" he gave the paternal figure a raised eyebrow.

"Maybe later Alf, once we get out of here," Willie said dismissively, pushing past him, "This doesn't let you off the hook for what you've done to…what the hell are you?"

He stared up at Barf, who was about two feet taller than he was. "What's the matter with you?" Barf asked him, "Haven't you ever seen a mawg before?"

"No," Kate was equally amazed to see Barf, "And quiet frankly I don't think I'd ever want you on my couch."

"Well at any rate, we'd better get you people out of here," Lone Starr ran up and shook everyone's hand, "Captain Lone Starr, hero for hire. We need…"

Just then there was a loud crashing. Dozens more guards swarmed in through the door that no one was ever supposed to come through. In the presidential box, Helmet grinned widely behind his visor. "So Lone Starr," he said in his sinister voice, "You thought you could come around behind our backs. Well now I have both you and Shumway in my clutches!"

"Well," a fluttering Lotto sneered as the guards surrounded everyone, "I guess my show's still going strong now."

"Yeah, well my Nielsen board begs to differ," Lone Starr retorted.

"Go to heck, Lone Starr!" Lotto snapped.

"Go to heck?" the hero frowned.

"You can't say hell on Spaceball television," Lotto explained.

"Oh," Lone Starr shrugged.

"Get that Melmacian," Lotto ordered the guards. Thinking quickly, Alf grabbed Barf's laser rifled and held it to his own head. "One more step and the Melmacian gets it!" he warned the guards in a rough voice. They all stopped short of him. "What's he doing?" one guard asked a colleague.

"I have no idea," the other said.

"Over this way, move!" Alf forced himself toward the air vent as if he was being made to do so by another person. "Please, don't let him take me!" he cried in a desperate voice. "Shut up, Gordon!" he told himself in the rough voice.

"Has Alf flipped his lid?" Kate asked out loud.

"No, he's got just the right idea," Barf whispered in her ear, "It's something I would have thought of. Let's follow him."

"Isn't someone going to help him?" another guard abruptly asked, watching Alf with worry.

"Shh!" still another hissed, "That's the surest way to get him killed."

Despite the absolute ridiculousness of the situation, the guards stood absolutely still and watched in horror as Alf led himself as hostage toward the vent and up into it. "You morons!" Lotto growled at them. The big cockroach fluttered toward them, taser in hand. Lone Starr bent down, picked up a giant flyswatter that just happened to be lying nearby, and whacked Lotto with it. "A finis!" Lotto moaned as he spiraled to the ground. This brought the guards to their senses. "Let's get them!" one yelled, and they charged toward them escapees. "Close your eyes, "Lone Starr told the others. Then he pointed his Schwartz toward the lights and made them increase in luminosity. The guards cried in pain and covered their own eyes. Lone Starr nodded in approval and climbed in after the others.

"Alf, Tripley's stuck in the vent," Brian called to his friend as they approached him.

"Oh Brian, you're all right!" Kate hugged him tight. Then her expression abruptly changed. You brought him here?" she demanded to Alf, "You're endangering his life in the process of saving us?"

"Well Kate, it was this or the Ochmoneks, and I think we know which option is more dangerous in the long run, "Alf told her, "Now if you're intent on heading back to L.A., help us get Tripley undone. Helmet'll be on the warpath soon."

Indeed, Helmet was now pounding on the airtight door to the presidential booth. "Open this up now!" he screamed to the attendants on the other side of the door.

"We're going as fast as we can, Lord Helmet," the head attendant told him, "But with eight doors it's a little time-consuming."

"I want Lone Starr!" Helmet shrieked, "And Shumway! And they're getting away!"

"Not on my watch, Helmet," Skroob activated his personal pager. "Attention all guards and droids," he announced, "Lone Starr and Gordon Shumway are loose on the planet. Seize them and hold them."

"Mr. President, are we sure we want to commit the droids?" Sandurz asked, pushing on the innermost door with Helmet, "They've just come off the assembly lines; they might not be combat ready yet."

"Trust me Sandurz, they're ready," Skroob reassured him. "You hear that boys?" he told his men, "Go get 'em, on the double!"


	12. Escape from the Planet of the Spaceballs

TWELVE

"Explain to me why we have to go crawling through the air vents of this God-forsaken place," Willie grumbled as they all did just that.

"I asked that same question just before we saved you," Alf told him, "No matter what the context, every one of these space stories ends up with someone crawling through vents for one point of another."

"Plus," Lone Starr admitted, "I forgot where I parked, so we'll have to hope we come out the right place."

"I think this corridor looks familiar," Barf pointed to the nearest exit duct.

"Might as well," his boss shrugged, "Worst thing that can happen is they're waiting for us and we get killed."

"That's lovely," Willie groaned.

Lone Starr kicked the grate open and they all slid down to the ground—except for Tripley, who had a solid chuck of the wall from the last vent enclosed around her midsection. "Hey, anyone want to give me a hand?" she demanded.

"Right, don't move," Lone Starr aimed his Schwartz and blasted it all off. Tripley jumped to the ground—just as a droid popped up from around the corner. "Freeze, all of you don't move!" it ordered, gesturing with a laser rifle. Everyone's hands immediately went up. The droid took the safety off its rifle and took aim….

And its arms fell right off. "Ho ho!" Barf chuckled, "Not so big and threatening now, are you?"

He advanced toward it. "Wait, uh, you wouldn't hurt an unarmed droid, would you?" it asked, looking down at its empty arm sockets.

"Let me think," Barf thought for a moment, then punched the droid's head right off. "I was wrong," the droid buzzed as its head rolled around on the ground.

"Well," Lone Starr announced, looking door up the hall, "It looks like we're near central control here. What do you say we give the other people Helmet's holding here against their will an early parole hearing?"

"Works for me," Alf strolled up to the door and knocked on it. "Room service," he announced.

The door slid open. "What the hell room…?" a guard inside asked, sticking his head out. Within seconds, Tripley had blasted him and every other guard in the control room with a withering laser fire. "You're seriously demented, you know that?" Kate asked the space woman as she stepped over the bodies into the control room.

"Thank you," Tripley told him. She looked over the controls. "There's got to be a master release button somewhere around here," she mused.

"It's right here, Trip," Alf pointed to a large red button marked IN CASE OF BOREDOM, PRESS THIS TO RELEASE ALL PRISONERS AT ONCE. The Melmacian hit it as hard as he could. Alarms sounded all over the prison complex. "That'll give the guards a bit of a hobby," he chuckled.

"We were housed next to Skip and Rhonda," Alf," Lynn told him, "They're probably out there somewhere."

"Really?" Alf's expression perked up at the mention of the two people he was closest to on Melmac, "What prison ball?"

"DUCK!" Lone Starr shouted before Lynn could answer. A whole company of droids was pouring up the corridor, firing indiscriminately. The hero drew a rifle he'd taken off a fallen droid in the studio and returned fire. "Out the window!" he told everyone else, "I'll hold them off!"

"Right," Tripley blew out the glass and fired a rope across to the other side. "Everyone grab on," she told the rest of the party. They slid down into the middle of a market of some kind. They looked up as a massive explosion rocked the control room. Lone Starr jumped out the window to the ground just seconds before the flames would have engulfed him. "Got them all," he said.

"And I got just what I wanted," Alf said, looking at one store with a sign reading PANCAKE TOSSERS 'R' US above the door, "Excuse me, I've got to get set up in case they come."

* * *

"Helmet, what's going on?" Skroob asked his associate, noticing the alarms on his monitor in the booth.

"Cuckoo, what's going on?" Helmet asked his apprentice.

"Mills, what's going on?" Cuckoo asked the alien-droid general.

"Sandurz, what's going on?" Mills asked his human counterpart.

"It's the prison complex," Sandurz said, checking his own screen, "Every security function's been turned off. The prisoners are all escaping."

"What?" Skroob gasped, "They'll kill every Spaceball they find!"

"It's Lone Starr," Helmet muttered, "He's trying to mess with me even further. Well not this time."

The final door to the outside was finally reopened. Helmet pulled down his visor. "You there," he called to several guards outside, "Follow me. We have a Melmacian to shred. And a hero, too."

They rushed up the hall. "You there," Helmet called to a person standing near a power coupling, "Which way'd they go?"

The person turned around. It was the translator mime. It made numerous hand gestures. "Come on, talk to me!" Helmet demanded, grabbing the mime by the collar, "Tell me where they are!"

The mime shrugged and pretended it was going along a wall. "You don't want to talk, do you?" Helmet thundered. He shoved the mime toward the guards. "Sergeant, take him outside and shoot him!" he ordered the commander, "And when you shoot him, make sure you use a silencer. In the meantime, we've got people to catch."

* * *

"Alf, I don't think this is going to work," Kate told her houseguest as he set up his recently purchased pancake tosser.

"Kate, in the words of the immortal Sledge Hammer, trust me, I know what I'm doing," Alf told her, inserting the first of several instant pancakes into the catapult.

"Well, we'll find out how much you know in a minute, because here they come," Willie pointed up the hall. The first wave of Spaceball storm troopers was charging toward them, firing like crazy. "Here's your just desserts," Alf yelled at them, firing the first salvo right at them. "Next batch," he told Brian, who handed him several more from his Very Easy Bake Oven that Alf had received free of charge for buying the pancake tosser. Lone Starr threw several laser blasts in with the pancakes for good measure. "Here, take this and cover our rear," he said, tossing a spare rifle to Kate. Kate, unused to weapons of any kind, shrieked and dropped it to the ground where it went off—shattering a pair of droids that had been sneaking up behind them. "Good shot," Lone Starr congratulated her.

"Huh?" Kate was puzzled until she looked around and saw the wrecked droids. More were swarming toward them.

"I've got an idea," Barf announced upon seeing them. The mawg ran over to the wall, smashed open a glass case conveniently nearby labeled IN CASE OF DROID ATTACK BREAK THIS, pulled out the super sized magnet inside, and aimed it at the droids. Within seconds, they'd all been attracted to it, lasers and all. Somehow managing to hold them upright, Barf strolled over to the nearest garbage disposal chute and dumped them all down it. "That's that," he said, slapping his hands confidently.

"Yeah, but this isn't that," his boss said, increasing his firing, "We're about to get overrun here!" And indeed, the guards were getting close to where they were standing.

"Let me," Tripley stepped forward and spread out a huge plume of flames along the floor. This forced the Spaceballs to retreat somewhat.

"Good work," her former lover patted her on the back, "Let's see if we can find an exit over that way," he pointed to the rear.

"It looks like a hangar of some sorts," Willie said, eyeing the numerous ships parked inside.

"And there's Spaceball Two," Barf pointed at the vessel, which stretched for miles into the rear of the hangar, "Whatdya say, boss, why don't we take away their main weapon?"

"Works for me," Lone Starr fired several more blasts at the approaching troopers, "But we're not leaving without the Winnebago."

"You always did have an almost psychic connection with that Winnebago," Tripley rolled her eyes.

There was an increase of laser blasts as the guards forged their way closer. Lone Starr emptied the remaining clip of laser blasts from his rifle at them, then tossed another one at Lynn. "Keep them at bay; we'll get this baby fired up," he told her, running for Spaceball 2.

"Are you crazy?" Lynn told him, holding the rifle at arm's length, "I'm not about to start shooting this thing!"

But then history eerily repeated itself. One of the troopers fired off a blast that singed Lynn's hair slightly. She clutched the burned area. "Why you dirty…!" she muttered, and before anyone—herself included—knew what happened, she'd started firing away wildly, mowing down every Spaceball in sight. By the time she ran out of ammunition, about seventy troopers lay dead. Everyone surveyed the damage with mouths hanging open. "Uh, I honestly don't know what happened," Lynn said out loud, aghast, "I just…I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"Uh, I guess not," her wide-mouthed father said slowly, "But just keep in mind, Lynn, that under normal situations when our lives aren't in danger, shooting people rarely solves anything."

"Except when it's Spaceballs," Alf piped up, "Great shooting, Lynn. I bet your boyfriend'll go crazy when he hears you've got a deadeye aim."

"Will you please stop butting into conversations that aren't your business?" Willie snapped at him.

"There's more people coming," Barf pointed out a loud clamoring coming up the hall. This time, however, it turned out to be the freed prisoners. They swarmed toward Spaceball 2, screaming things in all sorts of languages. "Sure, sure you can come," Lone Starr called to them, "If we're going to stop Helmet from blowing up Druidia, we're going to probably need reinforcements. All aboard," he waved for the hundreds of prisoners to head in the myriad of doors along the breath of the ship. Barf, in the meantime, picked the lock to the door to the bridge with his Galactican Express credit card. "Ah, the heart of the enemy's operations," he said, pushing the door open.

"Good, but how do we get this thing going?" Tripley asked, staring around the interior of the bridge, "I don't think anyone in the engine room speaks English."

"No problem Trip, I know how to handle it," Alf strolled over to the command rail and popped open a compartment several controls were inside, along with the label MANUAL SHIP CONTROLS—NEVER USE. "Hang on tight,we're on our way out of here," he said, hitting the Start button and giving the engines unnecessary revs.

Helmet and his associates ran into the hangar. "They're stealing Spaceball 2!" Sandurz gasped.

"Gee, do you really think so?" Helmet said sarcastically. "Stop them!" he yelled at his troops, "Don't let them take off!"

The troopers opened fire at their own ship with everything they had. Inside the bridge, everyone ducked down as excessive sparks exploded from everywhere. ""Take her out quick!" Lone Starr ordered Alf, "We're getting hammered here."

"If they board, I can hold them off with these," Brian pulled out a Spaceballs the grenade. His mother snatched it off him. "Where'd you get this?" she demanded.

"Yogurt gave them to us at discount before we came and saved you," Brian explained, "It's a children's toy."

"Well if I see this Yogurt character, I'm going to tell him a thing or two about giving children weapons," Kate pocketed the grenade. "I swear," she confided in her husband as the ship lurched out of its hangar, hitting the wall hard as it went, "The people in this galaxy are so enslaved to violence."

"Well, conflict is the nature of existence, Kate," Willie admitted, "And besides, nothing surprises me anymore with this place."

"There's the Winnebago," Lone Starr pointed to his vehicle in its parking space below, "Barf, turn on that tractor beam."

"Turning on the tractor beam," Barf hit the switch. A blue beam shot out the front of the ship, pulling the Winnebago into the cargo hold. Fire from the various anti-spaceship guns around the perimeter of Spaceball City raked their sides. "We've got no choice," Alf announced out loud, "We've got to go right to…ludicrous speed."

The dramatic suspense music from above sounded again. "Gordon, be serious," Barf protested, "This probably can't take ludicrous speed. And the viewers want action, not us running away with our tails between our legs—no offense to me."

"Sorry Barfo, there's no other way out," Alf said melodramatically. He turned on the ship's intercom. "Everyone fasten your seatbelts, things are going to get ludicrous," he announced to the response of numerous loud gasps.

"Things are already ludicrous, Alf," Willie told his houseguest, "They can't get much more ludicrous than they are now."

"Better buckle up, Willie," Alf told him, fastening his own seatbelt, "This jumps to ludicrous real quick."

"Alf, I think you'd better…" Willie started to say.

"Just do what he says, Mr. Tanner," Lone Starr informed the earthling as he buckled himself up, "Helmet made the same mistake with ludicrous speed last time."

"Explain to me what…" Willie's latest question came too late, as Alf hit the red dial marked LUDICROUS SPEED: DO NOT TOUCH UNLESS YOU REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, **_REALLY_ **MEAN IT! In a split second, Spaceball 2 was hurtling into the Plaid Zone at a speed to boggle the mind. Having not fastened his own seatbelt, Willie was hurled by the severe forces into the door to the bridge, where they soon pressed him into it so tightly that he was making an indentation in it.

Back on the ground, the leaders of Planet Spaceball stared up into the sky at their prize vessel—or at least where it had once been. "Gone, just like that," Skroob lamented, "My ten billion spacebuck investment in the hands of a Druidian prince—sort of."

"Ah, no matter," Helmet shrugged it off," We all know where Lone Starr's going, so we'll just have to put Exodosus on high alert for Spaceball 2. Lone Starr can commit grand theft auto, but soon or later his little trip to Vice City'll cost him. Sandurz, get the beams ready. I'm going back to Exodosus and wait for my quarry to arrive."


	13. Yet Another Essentially Pointless Chapte...

THIRTEEN

"Alf, stop this thing!" Willie shrieked over the roar of the engines. He was now being pushed so far back into the control room door by the incredible G-forces that he was practically on the other side of it.

"I don't think we want to do that, Willie," Alf had to shout as loud as he could to answer back properly.

"Yes we do!" his host yelled, "I take back what I said earlier! You can stay with us as long as you want!"

"Is that a guarantee?" Alf raised an eyebrow.

"I swear on my uncle's grave!" Willie told him, "Now stop this confounded ship, I'm begging you! STOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPP!"

"OK, but I don't think you want to know the results, as most of the readers probably do," Alf started to reach for the emergency brake lever, then turned back around and asked, "You're absolutely sure you want me to…"

"DO IIITTTTTTTTTT!"

Alf shrugged and pulled the lever. The entire ship lurched to a complete stop in half a millisecond. To be more precise, had a dime been floating in that part of space, Spaceball 2 would have stopped on it. Much as Helmet had once upon a time warp, Willie flew screaming across the control room, where he slammed hard into the windshield. "Oh God Willie, are you all right?" Kate asked, jumping to her feet and rushing to him. Stunned, Willie could only moan in pain as he slid to the floor. "Boy that was fun!" Brian announced out loud, "Can we do that again?"

Before anyone could respond, there was the sound of a loud horn in front of them. Lone Starr grabbed the steering wheel and lurched Spaceball 2 to the right just before a space truck would have hit them head on. "Great, of all the places to come out of ludicrous speed, it had to be the middle of the Ursa Minor Freeway!" he groaned. Bumper to bumper space traffic honked their ways through the cosmos.

"Worse than that," Tripley looked out the rear view mirror, "The Andromeda Highway Patrol's their usual efficient selves." A space CHiP was trailing behind them, his siren blazing. "Might as well pull over," she told her ex-fiancé.

"I've got an idea," Alf reached under the command rail and picked up a spare helmet that just happened to be underneath. Putting it on, he strolled over to the port window and turned his back as the space cop knocked on the window. "Good afternoon, officer, what seems to be the problem?" he asked in a deliberately nerdy voice.

"Tell me, how fast do you think you were going, Mr…?" the patrolman inquired gruffly.

"Helmet, Dark Helmet, and you can go to hell, cop," Alf said, winking at Lone Starr, who was too puzzled to wink back.

"Well Mr. Helmet, you were going a trillion miles an hour in a twenty-five thousand mile zone," the trooper told him, "Even during a drag race on Ratwoclean, that's definitely speeding."

"And you definitely saw me?" Alf asked him.

"Clear as night."

"Then I'm sure you noticed how slow everyone else around me was going," Alf pointed out, "Why not ticket them for going too slow?"

"OK Alf, enough with the horseplay," a revived Willie strolled over to him and lifted up the helmet, "I think the smartest thing for you to do right now is to just pay the fine and…"

"It's Gordon Shumway!" the cop exclaimed. He drew his gun. "I'm collecting that big reward. You're coming with me, Shumway."

"Very nice Willie," Alf told his friend, "I almost had him convinced I was Helmet. Would have given that guy a huge speeding ticket."

"Out of the car, Shumway," the trooper gestured. Before he could make good on his threat, though, Barf ran up to the window, apparently foaming at the mouth. He barked viciously. "That's right, we have a rabid mawg in here," Alf told the cop, "And he won't hesitate to bite you if he gets mad enough."

"Wait a minute," the trooper stared at Barf's "foam," "This is whipped cream. What are you trying to pull here?"

Lone Starr hit the acceleration button and set the speed to Ridiculous. Soon the cop was back in the dust. In the process, they triggered numerous accidents along the interstellar expressway. After about five minutes, the hero turned off the engine. "It'll take him about a month to catch up with us now," he said.

"Good, well, in that case, why don't you turn this thing around and take us back to earth?" Willie asked him.

"No can do," Lone Starr entered several directional coordinates, "I'm on a mission to save Planet Druidia. We're heading for Exodosus to stop Helmet's grandiose scheme of destruction."

"Why did I have the feeling you were going to say that?" Willie groaned.

There was a knocking on the control room door. "Gordon, are you in there?" came a sultry female voice. Alf licked his lips. "Rhonda?" Lynn asked him.

"Yep," a definitely pleased Alf said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a little catching up to do with the brown rose of Melmac."

* * *

"Sir, we've got the first triangulation of their position," Sandurz ran into the beaming room.

"Where are they?" Helmet asked.

"They just turned onto the Cassiopeia Parkway," Sandurz informed him, "They're heading toward Exodosus."

"Well we're going to be ready for them," Helmet said, "Snotty, beam me back."

"Yes sir," Snotty pressed the switches. A warm flow overtook Helmet as he was beamed back to his military hideout. Within seconds he was there. "All right men," he told the detachment waiting there, "I want…" It was then that he noticed something disturbing: his right leg was now where his left arm had been, and vice versa! "AAAKKK!" he screamed, staring in shock at the havoc the beam had wreaked on his body, "I told them the configuration was wrong. You there, beam me back!"

"Well sir, the others are coming in right now as we speak, and…" the technician Helmet had referred to tried to say.

"I said beam me back!" Helmet ordered him. The technician shrugged and hit the beam button. There was a loud burst of static as Helmet collided with Cuckoo, who was being beamed over at that very minute. When the static cleared, a hunched over figure with a white face and clown suit but wearing a helmet and cape and glasses stood on the beaming platform. The two evil leaders had merged. "YIPE!" Helmet-Cuckoo gasped, seeing his reflection in the mirror on the far wall, "How the hell did this happen?"

Back in Spaceball City, Sandurz watched with horror at his comrades' predicaments on the monitors. "Snotty, beam them back and try to get them separate again!" he told the beamer.

"I'll do what I can, sir," Snotty pressed several switches. The two merged beings disappeared from the monitors on Exodosus. Loud crackling and unnecessary flashing lights filled the control room. "Come on, give it more power, we're losing them!" Sandurz desperately pleaded Snotty.

"I'm givin' her all she's got, Colonel!" Snotty told him, "If I push her much further, the whole thing'll blow!"

There was an explosion as Helmet and Cuckoo tumbled, separate again, to the floor. With a loud burst of flames, the beam died. "Are you all right sir?" Sandurz rushed to Helmet.

"Fine, fine, but this thing is a piece of junk!" Helmet kicked the beamer, then hopped backwards clutching his foot in pain.

Skroob entered the room. "So, what's going on in here?" the president asked.

"Oh nothing, except you wasted a million good spacebucks on this trash!" Helmet pointed at the wrecked beamer.

"Perfect," Skroob groaned, "Now how're we going to get to Exodosus before Lone Starr does?"

"Follow me," still tendering his foot, Helmet limped out the door and into the street. "Taxi," he called out, extending his thumb. A cab pulled up. "Exodosus, as fast as you can," Helmet told the driver.

"What do I look like, Southwest Airlines?" the cabbie growled, "Move it pal, I got more important things to…."

Sandurz drew his pistol and shoved it in the cabbie's face. "Let us in unless you want to star on tomorrow's Execution Tonight," he said.

"Assuming Spike's back again after tonight," Cuckoo piped up. Everyone else glared at him. Gulping, the driver opened the rear door for them. "Fare's on the house," he said pulling out into the skies over Planet Spaceball.

* * *

"There goes Palamino," Tripley pointed out the window of the massive library inside Spaceball 2, "That's practically where I was born, you know."

"Sure," Lone Starr said, not looking up from the book he'd borrowed, A BEGINNER'S GUIDE TO STORMING HOSTILE PLANETS. "Is something wrong?" she asked him.

"I don't know," Lone Starr said, finally giving her the benefit of a glance, "It's just, that, well, I keep thinking about Vespa. I mean, as much as—how hard as it is living with her sometimes, I feel, uh,…"

"You still love her don't you?" Tripley inquired.

"Yeah, I guess so," Lone Starr said, "Therefore, as much as I appreciate your offer of eloping earlier, I…"

"I didn't offer to elope," Tripley informed him.

"Oh," Lone Starr frowned, "Well, I…"

"You can do whatever you want with Vespa," Tripley said, "I won't be angry."

"Right," Lone Starr said. For a good tow minutes they stared silently at each other, as if expecting there would be more to say than what they had just said. "Uh, OK, so I guess I can say I've got an idea on how we can go get them and stop the destruction of Druidia. Call everyone into the IMAX theater; I'll show them what I've got."

"Gotcha," Tripley walked off. Lone Starr put the book down and stared straight ahead. "Boy was this a pointless scene," he muttered, "We don't say anything important, really. I hate it when I get pushed into a scene with no real purpose other than to fill time. I hope the next chapter's better than this one."


	14. Calm Before the Storm

FOURTEEN

"Come over here, I'd think you'd want to see this," Alf called over to the Tanners from the window inside Spaceball 2's Olympic-size swimming pool.

"What is it?" Willie asked as he and the others pulled themselves out of the pool they'd been so thoroughly enjoying.

"To your left out there is the Altair Heights exit," Alf pointed, "Just to the right of that next to the blue planet is where Melmac used to be."

There was an uneasy silence as his adopted family looked upon what had once been their houseguests' home planet. "It must feel strange, Alf, "Lynn commented, "Coming home again to find home's not there."

"It is a but disturbing, yes," Alf admitted, "To think how many of the people I knew were just minding their business when all of a sudden Melmac split into millions of little Melmacs, some of which are still circling within several parsecs. I never thought I'd be back this way again, that's for sure."

"Well Alf, at least you still have some survivors to talk to on this ship, I guess that's a positive," Kate surmised.

"And that's something we need to discuss," Alf said, "Skip offered me that place on the new Melmac again. Seeing how everything I seem to do down on Earth backfires and gets you all mad, such as adding onto your house to protect myself for psychotic invaders, I might just take up that offer this time."

"No Alf, we don't want you to go!" Brian threw his arms around his friend, "We're happy with you, we won't get mad! Will we, Mom?"

Before Kate could answer to this,the door to the pool room swung open. "Am I disturbing anything? "Barf called in.

"No, things we just starting to get too serious, that's all, thank you," Alf called to him across the expansive room.

"Well you're all needed in the IMAX theater; Captain Lone Starr needs to make his big speech concerning his attack on Exodosus tomorrow," Barf said.

"Why does he need us?" Willie asked, "Neither I nor my family is getting involved in any more intergalactic grudge matches."

"He wants everyone there, including you," Barf explained. As he turned to leave, he couldn't resist saying, "Nice bathing suit, Mrs. T.; one piece?"

Kate pulled her robe shut. "Has no one in this galaxy a shred of decency?" she shouted to no one in particular.

"Probably, but we wouldn't have time to find them," Alf dried himself off, "Here, get dressed; we've got a meeting to go to."

Meanwhile, Barf sauntered his way up into what had to be the biggest IMAX Theater EVER created—so big, in fact, that the other wall wasn't even visible from the door. Many of their makeshift crew were already seated and mulling among themselves in various languages. "You OK there, boss?" he asked his comrade.

"I just know we botched the end of the last chapter," Lone Starr was muttering under his breath, "We could have made it a good an in-depth look at how torn I am between Vespa and Tripley, but we cut it off too soon."

"Don't worry about the last chapter, boss," Barf told him, "It's over, it's in the past. Right now, let's just give the big speech and get to the big climax."

"Right," Lone Starr tapped on his podium to get everyone's attention. "Can I have you're attention please?" he asked them all, "Now then, tomorrow evening, you will all be…" he had little choice but to stop as Alf and his adopted family abruptly joined him on stage. "Sorry, couldn't find a seat," the Melmacian said. Lone Starr glanced down the theater. There were still loads of open seats as far as he could see, but he saw no point in arguing.

"As I was saying," he went on, "Tomorrow night we'll be taking part in the biggest offensive in this part of the universe since the Drone Wars ended. Our enemy is tough, but wee have something they don't: the burning desire for revenge for wrongs committed. I wish I could say that I could do everything in my power to bring you all back safely, but I'm afraid that in these types of stories, somebody always has to die, so to those of you without a character name, I can only say sorry, but that's just the way it's usually written."

"That's not exactly going to boost their morale," Willie whispered in Lone Starr's ear.

"Well I'm sorry, but this isn't some sitcom where the most complicated of problems can be neatly wrapped up in a half hour," Lone Starr whispered back. Turning back to his audience, he said, "I know what you're all thinking, this is pure suicide to try and stop Helmet. Well, if we don't stop him now,then once he destroys Druidia, my adopted home sweet home, he'll probably come after your planets, and he won't stop until he's blown up all of them. I don't know about you, but that's a serious enough threat to make me want to go down there and personally fight them alongside you—which I am going to do, because that's what good guys do. And should we succeed in this quest, then tomorrow will forever be known as the day that we, the inhabitants of the Frankfurt Galaxy, rose up and told the Barcelona Dragon of oppression that we will not go quietly into the night! That we will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Tomorrow, we celebrate our Independence Day!"

His makeshift crew rose to their feet and gave him a standing ovation. "Great speech, boss," Barf congratulated him, "Very nicely put."

"Sure," a strangely befuddled Lone Starr said, "So tell me then why I've got the strangest feeling that I said it before?"

"Ah who cares, let's just get on with it?" Barf shrugged.

"Works for me," Lone Starr said. "Now," he went on, "Here's the basic plan for our attack. Trip, if you please."

Up in the projection room, Tripley turned on the projector—which immediately exploded for no particular reason at all. On stage, Lone Starr sighed. "On second thought, let's break for a half hour and have lunch," he suggested, "We'll lay it out on the blackboard later."

A mass exodus toward the exits and the cafeteria answered his proposition. "Sounds good," Alf hopped off the stage, "Finally, I'll get to eat a cat in a good long while."

"Let's just hope they have earth food," Kate said in a tone that suggested she doubted they did.

"If they don't, I'll be happy to split the tail with all of you," Alf proposed.

"Forget the tail," Willie looked nauseated at this thought, "Don't bring up the tail or we won't be able to eat anything at all."

"You sure you don't even want the whiskers?"

"NO!"

"Just asking, Willie."

* * *

Skroob's taxi finally pulled up next to the control mountain on Exodosus. "That'll be 3,788,223 spacebucks," the cabbie remarked.

"You said it was on the house in the last chapter!" Helmet pointed his Schwartz at him.

"All right, all right, it's on the house!" the cabbie cringed. The four occupants of the car entered the mountain through the obligatory secret entrance. Skroob pressed the first radio screen he could find. "Zircon, what's Spaceball 2's current coordinates?" he asked the main center.

"Stuck in traffic near the second Altair exit," Zircon informed him, "Welcome to Exodosus, Mr. President. We can give you the guided tour of our facilities at half price if…"

"Forget the guided tour!" Skroob shouted, "We need to get the planet tractor beam shield up and running pronto if we don't want to get strafed by our own ship!"

"Yes Mr. President, we're doing that as you speak," Zircon said, "We'll see you in the control room."

"You do realize, sir, that if we raise the planetary shield, our T.A.R.G.E.T.s can't get out," Sandurz pointed out as they entered the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.

"Well, we'll take it down briefly when we launch them," Skroob proposed, "What are the odds they'll hit us when they'll be concentrating on taking out our W.M.D.s? And besides, we got the Widowmaker model here that they can't stop even with Spaceball 2's advanced firepower."

Helmet raised his visor. "Boy is he a terrible strategian," he confided in Sandurz.

"What?" Skroob gave his top aide a piercing look.

"Oh nothing," Helmet said with a big fake smile.

The elevator opened into the main control room. "President Skroob sal—" Zircon started to order.

"Forget the salute, forget the salute!" Skroob waved her off as he ran up to her, "We've done the salute enough in this story! Anyway, how's the progress coming with the T.A.R.G.E.T.s?"

"You'll be pleased to note, Mr. President, that we have just finished arming all the T.A.R.G.E.T.s," Zircon informed him, "We're all set to go once General Mills comes over tomorrow morning with your droid armies."

"Good, good," Skroob looked out the window in the mountain. The trench with the T.A.R.G.E.T.s in them was directly below, the deadly vehicles inside it being attended to be numerous technicians. Zoom the window in," he ordered. Much like a computer screen, the window magically zoomed in through the cosmos until it was focuses right on Druidia…or at least its moon, which was obstructing the planet's view. "It's all perfect," Skroob announced out loud, "Tomorrow night, Druidia will be in perfect alignment with Exodosus, and we'll blow it clean into oblivion, and take all it's air in the process. Nothing will stop our T.A.R.G.E.T.s!"

"And if they do, we'll get along fine on smuggled Perri-Air," Cuckoo chimed in. Helmet whacked his apprentice over the head. "We're not going to fail, you moron!" he shouted, "Not when we've come so far and worked so hard!"

"Right, Master," Cuckoo said quickly rubbing his head, "Not even Lone Starr can stop us with Spaceball 2! It's goodbye time for Druidia!"

He broke into an evil laugh. Slowly everyone else joined in until they were all laughing hard like any good villain would—laughing evilly forever and ever, as if they expected the chapter to never have to come to an end, which, abruptly, it did.


	15. The Obligatory Big Battle

FIFTEEN

"Good evening," the metal-mouthed reporter told his camera, "This is Spaceball Nightly News, Ron Brokejaw reporting. We're here live on Exodosus for live exclusive coverage of the destruction of Planet Druidia. Any minute now President Skroob will give his great address to the droid troops, and then the attack to wipe out Druidia will be launched. I see the president is now headed to the microphone, so we'll switch over to him now."

Skroob tapped the mike several times, and then looked out at the troops and droids below him on the great plain before him on the planet. "Well boys," he announced, "Now is the time we and the readers have all been waiting for. In a few minutes you'll be mounting up your T.A.R.G.E.T.s and blowing Druidia off the map. All I have to say is, 'Do your best and remember, you're making Spaceballs everywhere proud.' Now go out there, and give them a literal piece of Hell, boys!"

Loud cheers rose up from the troops. "All crews to your T.A.R.G.E.T.s," General Mills ordered, taking his place at the microphone, "We are launching in three minutes."

"OK," Brokejaw looked a little awkward, "You've just heard President Skroob's speech—a little quicker than we expected, but still very moving. We'll see if we can get…oh, here's Colonel Sandurz; Colonel, could you explain to us how you're going to get all the air out of Druidia we need to end our rumored air shortage while simultaneously blowing up the planet?"

"Well Ron, first of all I'd like to point out that all rumors of an air shortage on Planet Spaceball are completely false," Sandurz said, "If there were, we'd certainly have told everyone about it, now wouldn't we?"

"I suppose you would have, Colonel," Brokejaw shrugged.

"At any rate, our T.A.R.G.E.T.s have sucking capacity that will be activated after detonation; it's too complicated to explain," Sandurz went on, "If you'll turn the camera over that way, you'll be able to get our preliminary procedures; Cuckoo, activate the code breaking laser."

"Yes, Colonel," Cuckoo through a switch. A large satellite dish, with the company name INDIRECTV hastily blacked out on it, rose out the top of the command mountain. "Activate the air shield code," Sandurz continued. Cuckoo entered 1-2-3-4-5 into the computer. The dish began buzzing. In the distance, the air shield to Druidia slowly creaked open. Skroob walked over to the interplanetary intercom. "Gentlemen," he announced, "and droids, start your engines."

The T.A.R.G.E.T.s roared to life in the trench. Druidia was right in the middle of it, perfectly lined up for destruction. "Well Mr. President," Helmet said, uncorking a bottle of Spaceballs the Champagne, "For once you've finally done it right. We're going to win this one, and there's nothing Lone Starr can do to stop us."

"And better yet," Skroob said, pouring himself a shot, "Any explosions will take place far from here, away from us."

Just then, the TeleWall lit up. "Universal Express," said a guy in a delivery suit, "I've got a package here for a Mr. D. Helmet."

"I didn't order any package," Helmet told him.

"Well, it was ordered overnight, specifically for you," the deliveryman said.

Helmet rolled his eyes. "All right, all right, we're kind of busy right now, just drop it down on the planet; we'll open it and sign for it later."

"As you wish," the deliveryman said. Helmet and everyone else in the control room were stunned to see a gigantic red Christmas present fall out of the sky (with the protective shield already having been taken down to allow the T.A.R.G.E.T.s to leave the planet) and land at the foot of the mountain. Simultaneously, the monitors started acting crazy. "Sir," came the voice of the head technician, "We've lost the bleeps, sweeps, and creeps again, and now we're losing the sleeps and weeps too."

"Huh?" everyone asked.

"Well you know," the technician said matter-of-factually, "The sleeps: rrrrrrrr-RRRRRRRRR, rrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRR, and…."

"We don't need to hear the description!" Helmet snapped.

"Sir, the screens," Sandurz examined it closely, "It's been—pickled."

"Pickled?" Skroob frowned, "What, are they out of jam?"

"It looks like…" Sandurz started to say, but just then a blast of color took over the screens, along with a familiar theme. In a flash, Alf jumped into frame dressed like Prince. "It's Friday night, "he boomed into his microphone.

"Yes it's Friday night," added a backup group of female Melmacians.

"And the mood is right," Alf crooned on, "We're gonna have some fun, show you how it's done, TGIF."

Lone Starr now jumped into view. "Yes, it's 8 o'clock on Friday, and we've got a little surprise for you, Helmet," the hero said, "My own little Straight Flush to beat out your Full House, even when Family Matters. Jesus, why am I referencing them? Anyway, your little attack's going to be panned by our critics, especially after we unleash your own ship and fighters against you. Here's a little trivia for you: what do you call people like you who stupidly let us deliver…?"

Horrible expressions swept all the bad guys' faces. Skroob grabbed the microphone. "Get that package outta here, quick!" he screamed to no one in particular.

"Too late, Skroob," Lone Starr chided him, "You left the cage door unlocked, and the pit bull's a-coming out. Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the battle as we destroy your dreams and forces right here tonight oooooonnnnnnnnnn…"

"T-G-I-F!" the Melmacians all shouted. The next moment, the package exploded open, and several dozen former Spaceball assault craft fired off a salvo at the command mountain. "Get the shield back up!" Sandurz shouted to the nearest guard.

"Function negative, sir!" the guard said, flicking the switch until it broke off in his hands, "They've wrecked the shield!"

"Oh great!" Skroob groaned. He activated the intercom. "Everybody who can walk, get out here quick!" he shouted to everybody on the planet, "We've gotta stop them!"

There was another loud explosion. "Bad news, sir," a commander appeared on the TeleWall amid much static, "They've completely destroyed the Starbucks on Level 12."

"NNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Skroob screamed, bending over backwards.

On the planet's surface, Lone Starr coasted to the ground on a transport. "Okay guys," he announced to his troops, "Our primary goal is to stop those T.A.R.G.E.T.s. Try and lure every Spaceball you see away from the trench so we can hit them with everything we've got. In the meantime, let's try and knock out their communications so we can isolate them." He activated his radio. "You all ready to bomb their brains out, Shumway?" he asked back up to Spaceball 2."

"Ready and rearing to go, Captain," Alf told him.

"All right, let's wipe them out!" Lone Starr said, raising his Schwartz high. He leaped out and started blasting away at the troopers that had already started firing at them.

But then, out of nowhere, a line of cord shot around his wrists. "Jingo all the way!" came the snowman bounty hunter's voice from above, where he was rocketing on his jet pack. He proceeded to drag Lone Starr over Exodosus's rough surface. Trying to ignore the pain the sharp rocks were inflecting on his chest, Lone Starr looked ahead and saw an erupting volcano ahead of him. Thinking quickly, he aimed his Schwartz at Belz's rocket pack and concentrated as hard as he could. It proved to be enough; the rockets ceased firing, and Belz plummeted into the volcano. "No!" the snowman started screaming as the hot lava somehow started melting his frozen armor, "I'm melting, melting, melting! Oh, what a world! To think I'm only an afterthought in the story by now, to die like this…!"

"Then just shut up and die already!" Lone Starr snapped, freeing his wrists from the wire.

"Okay," Belz shrugged. Then he finished melting into a puddle. "Boy, he really was a snowman!" Barf commented, having followed his boos looking to help.

"Yeah, Lone Starr said, dusting himself off, "And a really abominable one at that."

Laser fire hit their feet, causing them to dive into a ditch. "Forgot to mention, there's a big machine gun nest up there guarding the T.A.R.G.E.T. trench," the mawg said. Lone Starr looked up to see about a dozen Spaceballs firing at rebel troops from a large robin nest set up on a large rock outcropping. "We'll have to take them out," the hero realized, "And luckily I've got an idea. It's silly, but it'll work."

And moments later, the Spaceballs abruptly stopped their firing at the sight of what had to be the ugliest woman in the universe rising out of the ditch. They couldn't have cared about "her" appearance at all, though. "Hoo boy, what a dame!" one of them goggled at her, "Come make a man, little lady!"

"Hello boys," Lone Starr said in the most feminine voice he could come up with, "Why don't you come up and see me some time?"

While the Spaceballs goggled, Barf snuck up underneath them and yanked out a small twig from the nest. Immediately the whole nest gave way, dumping the Spaceballs on the ground. "Weapons on the ground, guys," Barf said, pointing his own laser rifle at them, "You've just flown out of the coop—or something along those lines."

"Hang on tight, here we go," Alf said as he dived Spaceball 2 toward the T.A.R.G.E.T. trench at an almost suicidal rate, "Is that really necessary?" Willie protested.

"No, but it sounds so good when you right it," Alf told him, "Ready to fire, Skip?"

"Ready, Gordo," his old buddy from Melmac said, looking down the bombsight, "We're coming up on the first one now."

"Let them have it then."

"Fire in and out of the hole," Skip dropped the bombs. A loud blast of black smoke signaled the end of the first T.A.R.G.E.T. in line. "Good shot, guys," came Lone Starr's voice over the radio.

"Yeah, good shot Skip," Brian slapped hands with the alien.

"Nothing we in the Orbit Guard could never handle," Skip said, flexing his fingers.

Loud blasts abruptly rocked the control room. Spaceball fighters were on their tail and firing at will. "Oh great!" Kate groaned, "As if this couldn't get any worse!"

Alf grabbed the fore laser gun and started firing away with everything he had, albeit in a reckless and erratic fashion. "Ha ha, take that to the bank and cash it!" he shouted at the still-coming crafts.

"Well they'd be cashing it in all right, Alf, if you'd actually start aiming at them," Willie pointed out.

"Oh, well, I was just trying to unnerve them before I actually shot at them," Alf explained. He clicked the gun again, only to find that he'd used up all the ammunition. Missile hit the bridge repeatedly, causing everyone to jump for safety. "Listen you guys," he yelled up through the now broken window, "There's no need to take all your repressed anger out on us. If you're so determined to kill somebody, let me give you Kate's mother's address."

"ALF!" Kate glared at him.

"Well it was just an idea," Alf shrugged. He reached for the intercom. "Hey Larry, is there anything left in the magazines?" he asked another friend.

"Uh, just some grape shot, Gordon," Larry said.

"Bring it on up here A.A.R.P.," Alf told him. "And in the meantime," he added, picking up a home video recorder from under the command rail, "If the grape shot works the way I think it will, I want this on tape. Bob Saget'll love this."

"Well, you know he doesn't host America's Funniest Home Videos anymore, do you Alf?" Lynn asked him.

"True, but I'd think he'd still love it," Alf said.

Larry burst in carrying the grape shot. "Load it in over there," Alf pointed to the fore gun. Larry locked it into place. Alf took careful aim at the approaching Spaceball squadron. "Just be glad I don't have the peanut butter to go with this," he said, and with that fired. The grape shot hit the foremost attack craft, splattering grape jam all over it. Blinded, the fighter spun sideways into another squadron, knocking them over literally like tenpins. It then plummeted toward the trench where it hit and blew up another T.A.R.G.E.T. "Good form, good form," Alf applauded his victim's explosion. He checked the playback on his videotape. "Perfect. I can see Bob forking over the hundred grand right now," he commented.

"This is terrible!" Sandurz lamented, staring glumly at the hologram of the battle before them in the command mountain, "They've got us completely off guard! And we're losing T.A.R.G.E.T.s fast!"

"And plus we're out of coffee!" Skroob moaned.

"Will you drop the coffee for one minute?" General Mills glowered at him, "I'm going down there and taking out this pointless resistance of theirs single-handedly."

"I don't think that's a good…" Cuckoo started to say, but Mills was already out the door. The clown shook his head. "Well, it was nice knowing him," he shrugged.

Down below, many participants on both sides were not surprisingly falling dead. Even though the Spaceballs were throwing every scientifically advanced weapon at them, the rebels were still surviving, even though much of the battles had little real strategic purpose other than to look impressive to the average reader.

Among the chaos, Lone Starr was now helping Barf assemble a radar dish of sorts. "Let's just hope we've got the right frequency on this thing," the mawg said, "If only there was a way we could test it."

"Here's our test," Lone Starr stood upright and aimed the dish at a group of droids coming right at him saying monotonously, "We must destroy all the good guys. We must destroy all the good guys." The hero fired a blast at them. The droids shook from the scrambling, then abruptly dropped their guns and started playing pattycake with each other, now droning, "Dance your cares away, worries for another day, let the music play, down at Fraggle Rock."

"Well, at least now they have a hobby," Barf said, "I hope we've got…"

"Watch it!" Lone Starr pulled his buddy away just before something large and orange landed right near them. "What was that?" a shaken Barf asked.

"It came from that pillbox," Lone Starr pointed across the way to the large cardboard structure. The Spaceballs manning the pillbox fired an Advil out of it at them, and it just barely missed them. The two of them started running for cover. "I don't want to be around when they let loose with the Viagra," Barf commented.

From out of nowhere, however, Tripley stepped forward in her Indestructo suit. Setting the arms to water dispensers, she fired away at the open slit in the pillbox. Within minutes, white foam was pouring out of it. The Spaceballs poured out of the pillbox covering their faces. Seeing Tripley, they fired away at her. True to its name, however, the Indestructo suit was impervious to the lasers. Calmly, Tripley set her dials to pepper spray and fired back. A black cloud smothered the Spaceballs, who started sneezing violently from the pepper. Barf ran up and conked them out with a conveniently handy rock. "Nice save, Trip," he told his boss's ex.

Tripley coolly blew off the tips of her arms. Just then General Mills jumped down into sight, looking incredibly ticked off. The alien-droid activated blades on his gauntlets and whipped them around impressively. "I've been waiting to meet you, Lone Starr," he told the hero, "And before the day's over, I'm going to add your Schwartz to my trophy collection. But before I kill you, I'll let you take your best shot, so go ahead, make my night."

"OK," Lone Starr took aim with his Schwartz at Mills, but at the last minute jerked his arm upward at a rock perched near the edge of the overhang above them. The giant boulder toppled off and crushed Mills before he had time to register. "Well, he was pretty much hot air," Tripley commented.

"And now I know the only reason they put him and Jingo Belz in this story," Barf added, "so they could increase the body count."

"Let's get these trophies of his while he's still dead," Lone Starr started picking up the myriad weapons Mills had carried with him as trophies off his belt. He froze and put his hands in the air, however, as a hover tank came roaring right at them. He needn't have bothered, however, for the shots from the tank missed him and his fellow good guys by a mile, hitting and blowing up all but one of the remaining T.A.R.G.E.T.s before the hover tank itself toppled over the edge of the trench and needlessly blew up. Up in his command post, Helmet slapped his head at the sight of just one good T.A.R.G.E.T. left. "This is unreal!" he screamed out loud, "Now we're taking out our own ships! Who the hell was in charge of that tank?"

"Let me check, sir, "Sandurz flipped through the computer, "Uh, that was Technical Sergeant Randy B. Asshole, sir."

"Well, that explains a lot, like why he missed Lone Starr when he was three inches in front of him!" Helmet muttered.

"And that's not the worst, Master,' Cuckoo pointed up into the sky, where Spaceball 2 was magically transforming into a giant…

"BASEBALL PLAYER?" Skroob was mystified, "I didn't even know Spaceball 2 had that setting!"

"Apparently it does," Sandurz said. They all watched in surprise as Mega Slugger (for lack of a better name) started swinging away and knocking the Spaceball fighters all the way out of the Frankfurt Galaxy. "Well, that's it, I'm going back to the service station," Cuckoo threw up his hands in surrender.

"We're not done yet!" Helmet shouted. He grabbed the radio. "Now hear this!" he bellowed, "You droids in that last T.A.R.G.E.T., go!"

Down below, Lone Starr watched in shock as the last T.A.R.G.E.T. accelerated down the trench right toward the helpless Druidia. "Hey Shumway, stop clowning around up there!" he yelled into his intercom, "Do something quick or Druidia's history!"

"I can't," came Willie's voice from the ship, "We're out of ammunition and fighters. And I have no clue where Alf is; he left about a minute ago."

"Oh great!" Lone Starr kicked a boulder in frustration, "Helmet got the drop on us! Isn't there anyone left who can stop them?"

There was a crackling on the radio. "Yep, I'm here and all ready to go!" came Alf's voice over the airwaves.

"Alf!" up in the ship, Willie ran to the window and looked out. "Where are you!" he asked frantically.

"I'm right up against Druidia, and I'm about to let that incoming T.A.R.G.E.T. have its blaze of glory, right Brian?"

"You bet, Alf," added the boy. His family abruptly looked backwards to where their son had been sitting just a few seconds ago, it seemed. "Willie, how'd Brian get…?" a deathly pale Kate asked her husband.

"I thought you were watching…?" Willie ran to Mr. Radar and switched to Teleview setting. Just near Druidia's air shield was a familiar looking vehicle with a humungous bomb labeled THE BIG ONE strapped underneath it. "Shumway, how'd you get my Winnebago started?" an irate Lone Starr demanded.

"Simple, Lone Starr, you left the keys in the ignition," Alf told him. The Melmacian looked through the periscope at the T.A.R.G.E.T. It was right on track. "OK Brian, let 'em have it." he told his friend in the co-pilot seat.

"Letting them have it," Brian hit the firing button. Unfortunately, the bomb failed to dislodge from its mooring. "Oh no, it's jammed, and it's on!" the boy exclaimed in fright.

"Alf, get out of there, quick!" Willie begged him, "Or at least get Brian out of there, for the love of God!"

Alf looked out the window at the fast-approaching T.A.R.G.E.T., then down at the display noting that the bomb had jammed. He took a very deep breath. "Listen Willie," he said slowly, "I'd like to thank you and Kate for giving me a home all these years. I appreciate your hospitality to a poor space traveler."

"What are you saying?" Willie was practically white from fear, as he realized exactly what Alf had in mind, "Alf, no, I beg you, don't, not with Brian on board, this isn't Independence Day…!"

"Sorry Willie, but there's no time and no choice," Alf said, "If it's any consolation, you can keep the parts you find."

"Alf, no!" a horrified Kate screamed, "This isn't a movie! The two of you can't survive if…!"

"Yes, Kate," the alien said, "I'm not going to let another planet blow up on my watch." And with that, he turned off the radio. "Switch to hyperjets, we've got to hit them at full speed," he told Brian. Seeing the fear in the boy's eyes, he said, "Hey, at least we're going out together."

Brian forced a smile. "Switching to hyperjets," he said, activating the Winnebago's secret function. Alf revved the engine as the T.A.R.G.E.T. drew closer, and then abruptly peeled off toward it at well over a billion miles an hour. "Hello boys!" he shouted at the droids running it for no particular reason other than to maintain the ID4 similarity, "I'm baaaaaaaaaacccckk!" Seconds later, the Winnebago collided with the T.A.R.G.E.T. a mere million miles from the open air shield. A blinding flash of white light filled the cosmos, and when it subsided, falling fireballs were all that remained of the two vessels.


	16. The Equally Obligatory Scwartz Duel

SIXTEEN

For about thirty seconds, everyone on Exodosus stared in shock at the massive explosion that had rocked the cosmos. Then most of the people on the ground immediately picked up fighting where they'd left off as if nothing had happened.

Up in Mega Slugger, however, it was a much more somber story. "Oh Brian!" a completely hysterical Kate sobbed at the flashes of debris still flying away from the explosion site, "My poor baby! Why did it have to end like this?"

Her husband and daughter, barely able to control themselves either, could offer little comfort of their own. "I just guess Alf had a mission, after what happened to Melmac," was all Lynn could suggest. "At least we saved Druidia."

Willie rose up, looking incredibly determined. "And now I'm going to pay back this Helmet guy for this," he said in a rough tone, "I'm going down there and I'm going to bring him down with my own two hands! You, Skip, get that beam ready!"

He strode toward the beaming device. "Willie, please, you're not thinking rationally," his wife tries to console him, "We're all upset we lost our son…and our alien, but that's no need to get reckless!"

"Kate, my mind's made up," Willie said firmly, "At least if I don't make it, I'll be with Brian again. Hit that thing, Skip."

"No Willie don't…!" Kate's pleas went unanswered as Skip beamed Willie down to Exodosus's surface. "He'll never last down there," she admitted to Lynn, "We've got to go down and stop him before he hurts himself, or worse."

On the ground, Lone Starr was also still staring blankly up toward Druidia. "My Winnebago," he was moaning, "My beautiful Winnebago. Why did Shumway have to sacrifice it?"

"Why did he have to sacrifice himself too?" Barf wondered. Then a bright look spread over the mawg's face. "Wait a minute, boss, maybe it's in the script. We'll just see…" he dug around through his pockets. "I don't have my copy of the script," he realized. He ran off toward the nearest cluster of rebels asking, "Hey, any of you guys got the script on you?"

"Well," Lone Starr tightened his Schwartz around his finger, "Now that we've saved the world, there's only one thing left to do: fight with Helmet face to face."

"Do you really have to?" Tripley asked him.

"Sorry Trip, but everyone expects it," he ex told her, "And I've got to do it alone, so if you can, hold off all their forces for me while I battle him." And with that,he strolled off toward the control mountain.

* * *

In the control room, Skroob was practically at hysterics himself. "My beautiful T.A.R.G.E.T.s!" he lamented, "So much money to build, and so cheaply destroyed!"

"They didn't destroy all of them sir," Sandurz informed him, "We've still got the Widowmaker model in the mantle with its superior gigaton bomb. Shall we launch it?"

Skroob immediately perked back up. "Yes, yes, launch it at once," he ordered.

"Sir," said a technician, "We're picking up an intruder entering the mountain on Level 3. It looks like…"

"Lone Starr," Helmet knew it already. He yanked down his visor. "Come Cuckoo," he told his apprentice, "It is time for the final showdown."

"Yes Master," Cuckoo followed him into the elevator. Helmet pressed the button for Level 3. Lone Starr was waiting for them in the hall outside. "So Helmet," the hero said, "We once again meet again for the last time. Until next time, probably."

"So Lone Starr, you think you've won at last?" Helmet asked him, "You can't win a double team against my apprentice and I, that's for sure."

"We'll see about that," Lone Starr activated his Schwartz beam. Helmet did the same. "As you can see, Lone Starr, mine is now much bigger than yours," the villain pointed out.

"Yeah, well, you know what they say, Helmet, it's not the size that counts, it's how you use it," Lone Starr told him, "And I'm going to use..."

Just then the door to his right was slammed open in his face, causing him to reel backwards. An irate Willie stormed out of it. "Dark Helmet!" he shouted at the heavy, "I want you! You took my son, you took my…alien, and now, I'm paying you back, you foul demon of space!"

"Boy is that lame dialogue," Cuckoo commented to his master.

"It's you and me, one on one, only one of us is leaving this planet alive!" Willie raised his fists and made jabbing motions with them, "Come on you ape, put 'em up and give me your best shot!"

"Uh, it may be good of me to point out you may want to use one of these," Lone Starr tossed one of the Schwartz rings he'd taken off General Mills at Willie. Willie fumbled it for a second and dropped it on the floor. "Right," the human said, pointing it comically at Helmet. Then he had no other choice but to ask, "Uh, Mr. Lone Starr, if you don't mind, how exactly does this work?"

"Oh my God!" Lone Starr rolled his eyes. "On your finger LIKE THIS," he demonstrated, "Now flick to activate it."

"Uh, it's not working," Willie said, flicking it quite the wrong way.

"You need to put some emphasis into it!" Lone Starr was very exasperated.

"While you're working this out," Helmet lunged toward Lone Starr with his Schwartz. The hero blocked it, and soon the two were in another heated duel. Cuckoo, in the meantime, slipped an extra large Schwartz on his finger. He activated four beams, one on each side of the ring. "You get me, pathetic Earthling," the clown told Willie, who was still struggling to get his Schwartz activated. He lunged forward. Willie did the best thing he could at the moment; he turned and started running as fast as he could, screaming at the top of his lungs all the way. "That's right you really want revenge," Lone Starr shouted sarcastically at his as he ducked another swipe from Helmet.

"I see you still do well in your Schwartz skills," Helmet said, stopping for a minute, "But let's see if you have the new optimum Schwartz power as I do."

He activated a trigger on the side of his ring and promptly leaped high into the air. Lone Starr looked at his ring, saw a similar trigger on it, and flicked it as well. He took the biggest leap he could, and soon he and Helmet were literally fighting it out on the ceiling, leaping from wall to wall.

Willie, meanwhile, was just barely able to stay ahead of the pursuing Cuckoo. "You can't run forever!" the clown taunted him, waving his Schwartz around wildly.

"No, but I'm going to get as far away as I can," Willie said. Panicked, he turned the corner and found himself stuck in a dead end. "So much for far away," Cuckoo laughed, advancing toward the human, "This will be quick and…"

And then without warning, a familiar furry object crashed through the ceiling and landed right on top on Cuckoo. "ALF!" Willie exclaimed, surprised to see the Melmacian in one piece.

"Hey hey hey, it's NOT Fat Albert!" Alf announced, dusting himself off, "How's it been going, Willie?"

"Fine, fine, but I thought you and Brian were…is Brian alive?" Willie asked breathlessly.

"Alive and ticking, partner," Brian called from through the big hole in the ceiling.

"Oh son!" Willie grabbed hold of his child and gave him one of the biggest hugs imaginable, "I thought we'd lost you! How did you get out before the explosion?"

"Two words Willie, optional sunroof," Alf told him, "Captain Lone Starr made a good deal in putting that in his Winnebago."

"That's enough!" Cuckoo rose to his feet, "Now I'll kill all of you until you all die from it!"

"Not in front of my son!" Willie tried once again without luck to activate his Schwartz. "Like THIS, Willie," Alf took it off him and activated the ring's yellow beam without any trouble. "And incidentally, I happened to have found one of my own," he added, slipping an equally oversized Schwartz and turning on its purple beam.

"Good, Alf, you take him on the left, I'll take him on the right," Willie told him. The two of them engaged Cuckoo, who nevertheless still had two Schwartzes for each of theirs. "Come and get me," the clown challenged them, using the optimal Schwartz power to leap up onto the ceiling. Alf activated his and went up after him. Willie attempted the same, but instead fell flat on his face. He wasn't really needed, though, as Alf was holding out well in his duel. "OOOOOh, what a feeling," the Melmacian crooned as he blocked every thrust Cuckoo made toward him, "When we're fighting on the ceiling. Oh, what a feeling, when we're fighting on the ceiling…."

"You sing well, Shumway," Cuckoo told him, "For an annoying, useless furball."

"Oh look who's talking, spot-head," Alf swung and sheared one of Cuckoo's Schwartzes off his ring. Both watched as it fell to the floor and rolled into a crack in the floor. Then Cuckoo growled and charged straight at Alf. "Toro, toro, ole!" Alf shouted as he jumped aside and let Cuckoo run right into the wall, knocking himself senseless.

Up the hall, Lone Starr and Helmet were fighting hard and strong. Neither had been able to overcome the other so far. Finally, they stopped for a breather and drank glasses of water that had been set up near the vent, apparently by the production crew. "So Lone Starr," the villain said, "Yogurt has primed your skills well."

"Yogurt knows how to prime a lot of things, from skills to numbers to ribs," Lone Starr told him, "Actually, Helmet, you surprise me. I thought you'd have started cheating by now."

"You mean like this?" Helmet whistled loudly. From out of nowhere, a squad of attack droids ran up, guns cocked. "You see Lone Starr, I always prepare for every occasion," Helmet said smarmily. He turned to the droids and ordered, "Attack!"

The droids attacked all right; they turned toward Helmet and blasted him with everything they had. "Not me you mechanical morons!" Helmet shouted, curling up into a ball, "Him!"

"I'll save you Master!" Cuckoo ran up the hall and proceeded to destroy every droid there with his Schwartzes. "Thanks," a heavily shot-up Helmet told his apprentice once it was over and the robots lay in wrecks on the ground.

"Are we still going to parlay?" Lone Starr asked.

"Yes," Helmet lunged straight at Lone Starr, who stepped aside and watched as his adversary sailed ungracefully down a long staircase that had been behind him. The hero rushed down to where he lay and struck the villain with his Schwartz—but as before, it had no effect on Helmet. "What is the story with this!" he exclaimed, striking in several more places, "Why can't I do you in?"

"Because evil never dies, Lone Starr," Helmet taunted him as the good guy deactivated his Schwartz, "Well, now that you know you can't kill me, what are you going to try now, big boy?"

"This," Lone Starr started tickling Helmet under the armpits. "Whoo hoo, stop, don't, ha ha, please, stop that, ha ha ha ha ha!" Helmet lurched backwards trying to get away—and fell down another long set of stairs. "That wasn't fair!" he shouted up.

"Give up, Helmet," Lone Starr told him, "I've beaten you fair and square."

"I never give up!" Helmet jumped back up and attacked again. Above him, there was another buzzing as another Schwartz was blasted off Cuckoo's ring. "Now the odds are a little fairer here," Alf said, "You may want to actually help out here a little, Willie."

"I'm doing the best I can with none of this Schwartz power!" Willie protested. Nonetheless, he made several goods thrusts at Cuckoo.

"Go get him, Dad!" Brian encouraged his father from the top of the stairs.

"BRIAN!" his mother ran up to him and gave him too many kisses to count, "Oh baby, oh baby, don't ever scare us like that again! How did you get out before the explosion!"

"Where's Dad?" Lynn asked before her brother could answer.

"Down there," Brian pointed, "He and Alf are kicking butt."

Kate looked over the railing. "Well, I'll give him that," she commented, "But we'd better stop him before something bad happens."

Below, the dual battles moved onto a stone walkway over a deep pit, at the bottom of which there was a pool of boiling lava. Helmet stepped a little too close to the edge and almost fell over. Lone Starr was on him before he could recover. "Surrender, Helmet," he ordered.

"Very well, Lone Starr," his adversary said, "I guess you win. Put it there."

He extended his arm. "Oh no," Lone Starr said, putting his arm behind his back, "I'm not falling for that again."

"Oh," Helmet shrugged, "Say, what's that over there?" he suddenly pointed to the far wall of the cavern. Lone Starr foolishly turned the other way to look, and while his attention was diverted, Helmet pulled the ring off his finger. "Ha, you fool!" the villain exclaimed, "The second oldest trick in the book,and you fall for it!"

He tossed the ring into the abyss below. "Any final requests, Lone Starr?" he asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, can I have your ring?" Lone Starr asked.

"Forget it," Helmet snapped. "Now you finally get that dessert you ordered a long time ago."

He made his Schwartz glow brightly, aiming straight for Lone Starr's genitalia…

"Breakfast is served!" came Alf's shout. Before Helmet knew what hit him, he was hit in the face with a pancake. As he staggered backwards, the blast meant for Lone Starr shot up through the ceiling. "Why you…!" he shouted, looking over to where the Melmacian and his human counterpart had overcome and de-Schwartzed a once again senseless Cuckoo, "Where the hell did you get that thing?"

"Right here," Lynn at the controls of the pancake tosser fired another salvo with the alien. Helmet was hit broadside with a whole stack. He staggered and collapsed to the ground. "How did it get to this?" he groaned, knowing the difficulty in this all coming together as it was. Nevertheless, he got up and took aim at his mortal enemies with the ring, but before he could…

There was a loud rumble as something big and heavy crashed through the roof of the cavern. It tumbled down into the lava below, where it exploded out of sight. No sooner had this happened than Barf came running in. "Hey guys, I got good news and bad news," he announced out loud, "The good news is Shumway and the kid got out OK."

"We know that," Willie told him, giving his son and houseguest squeezes.

"Oh, good, well, the bad news is, the Widowmaker Spaceball ship got hit by something and fell down here; I think it was armed, and…is that shaking normal?" Barf had noticed that the whole cavern was shaking. Rocks started falling from the ceiling and the lava below began gushing upwards. "Thank you for imploding Exodosus's core," announced the computer's public address voice over the loudspeakers, "This planet will self destruct in exactly five minutes."

"Oh my God, is this whole planet going to blow?" Kate gasped.

"Honestly Kate, do you think this story would be complete without a hair-raising ending?" Alf said, "At least with this battle ending now, we won't have to listen to Helmet go into some big long monologue over how great and bad he is, and what they'd do after they killed us, and everything we did wrong up to that point, and…"

"Shumway, now you're monologuing!" Lone Starr told him, "Come on, everyone follow me, we've got less than five minutes until Doomsday."


	17. Last Second Escape

SEVENTEEN

In the control room, Skroob and Sandurz stared around at the myriad of sirens going off. "Now what's going on?" the president asked out loud, "Don't tell me we're going to have to go through another whole self-destruct scene."

"Thank you for imploding Exodosus's core," the computer announced over the loudspeakers, "This planet will self-destruct in exactly four minutes and thirty-three seconds."

"I asked you not to tell me that!" Skroob yelled up at the nearest loudspeaker.

"Sorry," the computer said.

Sandurz activated the radio. "Attention all personnel," he announced as the Spinners' main Spaceball theme starting blaring from overhead as if by magic, "Abandon planet, abandon planet. Everybody head for the escape rockets, everybody head for the escape rockets. Shut down all the stores in the shopping center, shut down all the stores in the shopping center. Evacuate the 3-D theater, evacuate the 3-D theater. Why am I repeating myself? Why am I repeating myself? I don't know. I don't know. Oh what the hell? Oh what the hell? I'm getting out of here. I'm getting out of here."

There was a mad dash as everyone in the control room ran madly for the exits. The walls were starting to shake noticeably. "I got first dibs on the elevator," Skroob shouted, pushing his way through a sea of panicked technicians to get top it. He pried the doors open—and then jumped back as a huge jet of lava burst up the shaft. "On second thought, I got first dibs on the stairs," he added.

Down below, Lone Starr led the rest of the good guys through the maze of corridors deep in Exodosus, all the while avoiding collapsing ceilings and walls. "Everyone who's still up there, get off the planet while you still can!" he was shouting over his radio, "Don't worry about us; we'll be fine."

"And I suppose you have an airtight way to get us off this rock before it blows even though you're asking all our aid to leave?" Willie inquired, jumping upwards to avoid a stalagmite breaking through the floor.

"Well I haven't that out yet, although I wouldn't have to if my Winnebago hadn't been needlessly sacrificed in the battle," Lone Starr glared at Alf.

"Hey Cap, look at the bright side, any and all damage incurred is easily covered by Safe Auto," Alf told him.

"If I didn't know…" Lone Starr was cut off as a trio of Spaceballs jumped in front of them. "Freeze, you!" one of them shouted.

Barf drew an imaginary knife. Growling, he made a stabbing motion at the trooper. His "victim" groaned and sank to the floor, even though he hadn't even been touched. Barf stabbed at a second guard, who followed suit. The last one, however, stood firm while Barf "stabbed" away. "Damn, outta ammo!" the mawg lamented.

"I'm not," Alf pulled out an imaginary bazooka and fired at the last guard, who recoiled screaming into the wall and slumped down.

"Good thinking, Gordon," Barf patted Alf on the shoulder.

"Thanks, at least somebody's willing to always thank me when I solve a crisis," Alf blew fake smoke off the imagined barrel of his bazooka and gave Willie a look.

There was a barrage of laser blasts as more troopers came charging up the hall. Barf, as the only one with a weapon, fired back at them. "If you can solve this one, Gordon, we'd greatly appreciate it," the mawg told the Melmacian.

"And lucky for you, Barf, the old Alfer's got one in mind," Alf said, pointing to a vending machine selling 7-Down soda, "Who's got quarters?"

"Um, I've got about five of them," Lynn said, searching through her pockets.

"I've got two," Brian held out his in his palm.

"Good enough," Alf took them all and inserted the first quarter into the vending machine. "Fire in the hole!" he shouted, pressing the button for a 7-Down and hitting the deck. A can of 7-Down shot of the machine like a bullet and exploded near the troopers, causing them to scurry for cover. Alf dropped in more quarters and soon had the Spaceballs on the run from his high-caffeine mortars. The final can, however, jammed in the slot. Noticing the lull, the two Spaceballs who hadn't run away resumed firing. Alf tugged at the can with no results. "A little help please?" he asked everyone present. The others ran over and tried to yank the can out—except for Barf, who pulled the entire front off the vending machine. About eight dozen cans of 7-Down rolled around on the floor. "I'm not that thirsty," Alf told him.

"Let's see what we got here," Lone Starr picked up one can, shook it up good, then popped the top and tossed it like a grenade. It landed near the farthest trooper, who was too busy firing at the good guys to notice the spraying can. His associate did, though, and was gracious enough to smother it in time. It exploded underneath him, causing him to shout for a medic.

At this point, the roof started collapsing in the hall, prompting everyone good and bad to start running—the "wounded" Spaceball tediously. "This planet will self-destruct in exactly three minutes," the computer reminded everyone.

"We know, we know!" Lone Starr shouted up at the ceiling, "Do you honestly think none of us are wearing watches?"

"Well excuse me, Mr. Pushy," the computer retorted.

"It really doesn't make much logical sense," Willie confided in his wife as they turned right toward what was hopefully the surface, "The fact that they can time this out, I mean. How can they possibly tell you the exact moment the planet's going to blow up? You just can't."

"Well Willie, nothing about these people is logical," Kate pointed out, "Why should the planet self-destructing be any different?"

"Good point," Willie agreed.

Up in the escape rocket causeway, it was pure pandemonium. Hysterical Spaceballs rushed here and there in a desperate attempt to lock up an escape craft before the planet exploded. Many were carrying valuables from Spaceball stores on Exodosus that they'd heisted during the breakdown in order. It was into this melee that Helmet and Cuckoo came running. "I don't see any openings, Master," Cuckoo confided in him.

"No, but I have mine on reserve for—hey you, get out of my rocket!" Helmet yelled at a person climbed into the helmet-shaped rocket he'd specifically set aside as his own. "You?" he gasped upon seeing it was the mime, "But I had you shot back on Planet Spaceball!"

The mime shook its head, eye-poked Helmet over his glasses, and ran into the rocket while doing the Curly Howard hat rattle. Before Helmet could recover, he launched it. "Get back here you silent slug!" Helmet yelled up the shaft after it.

"I guess he sure told you, Master," Cuckoo shrugged.

"Just shut up and find a craft for me!" Helmet shouted, eye-poking Cuckoo in turn.

On the opposite side of the causeway, a panicked Skroob and Sandurz entered the area, along with dozens of other equally panicked Spaceballs. "Well Sandurz, it's every Spaceball for himself," the president announced, "If we don't see each other, it's been sort of nice knowing you. And with that I see my ride."

He ran for the nearest open rocket, but was beaten to it by an organ grinder. "Outta there, bub!" Skroob shouted at him, "I got diplomatic immunity; that means I get first draw!"

"You got diplomatic immunity, and my monkey's got a taser," the organ grinder told him. He nodded at his monkey, who pulled out the taser in question and let Skroob have it. Skroob shot backwards across the floor, vibrating wildly from the shock. The monkey laughed and pulled the launch lever.

Sandurz, meanwhile, wasn't having much luck of his own. He ran for the first craft he saw, only to find it occupied already by Jichael Maxson. "Come on, JM, give the nice colonel his escape rocket," Sandurz pleaded.

"Sorry Colonel, but I've got to Beat It," Maxson told him, "You can call me a Smooth Criminal if you like, see the world in Black or White, but remember, I Just Can't Stop Loving You."

He pulled the launch lever, but at that moment, Sandurz reached in and pulled him out of the rocket before the door slid closed. The rocket took off empty. "Wait for me!" Cuckoo yelled, barreling across the causeway. The clown grabbed onto the rocket's thrusters and flew up the shaft out of sight with it. The back draft from the exhaust ignited Maxson's hair. "Oh no, not again!" the singer shrieked, and with that started running around pointlessly with the flames leaping high in the air.

"This is your two minute warning," the computer announced to everyone still on the planet, "This planet will self-destruct in exactly two minutes."

At the far end of the causeway, Helmet spotted one of the few remaining unlaunched rockets. The only problem was that a woman in a blue dress was already getting into it. "Miss," Helmet said, running toward her, "I'm willing to offer you ten million spacebucks for that rocket."

"The person turned around. It was a large bearded man. "Hello, buttercup," he said in a deep masculine voice, and with that kissed Helmet passionately on the lips. While Helmet sputtered in shock, he launched into the air after the dozens of other rockets headed for the safety of space.

"Sir, are you all right?" Sandurz ran up to Helmet.

"Fine, fine," Helmet said, wiping his face, "I'll tell you one thing, Sandurz, he…she…whatever, kisses like Hedy Lamarr."

"That's Hedley!" shouted the Blazing Saddles villain as he jumped into an open escape rocket nearby that Helmet had failed to notice. Both Helmet and Sandurz lunged for the craft, but Lamarr launched it before they could reach it.

"Wouldn't you just believe it?" Skroob asked as he ran over, "We're down to just one pod again."

"Oh great," Sandurz groaned, "I guess we'll have to draw straws for it."

"Good, you two draw the straws, and I'll take the rocket," Skroob made a beeline for it.

"Oh no you don't!" Helmet jumped on top of his boss before he could reach it. The two of them rolled around on the floor—until they saw Sandurz was getting into the last rocket. Both of them lunged at the colonel, causing all three of them to be stuck in the rocket's doorway. All six of their arms reached for the launch lever. Sandurz's left arm hit it first. As soon as the door started lowering, the three of them realized they'd made a mistake. "Back out!" Skroob yelled, but it was too late. The rocket lurched up the shaft, dragging the villains along with their rumps scraping against the shaft walls.

Outside, Lone Starr and the others burst out onto the surface just as the entire face of the mountain gave way, blocking the exit from the inside of the mountain. Earthquakes were rocking Exodosus as far as the eye could see, causing fissures to open on the surface at numerous locations and lava to spill out. "Great, they're all gone," Barf groaned, scanning the empty skies for the now absent Mega Slugger, "With friends like them, who needs enemies?"

"This planet will self-destruct in exactly one minute," the computer said on the loudspeakers set up all over the outside of the planet, "Last call for everyone who wants to make it to the next film."

"What a way to go," Willie moaned, pounding his head on a boulder, "I knew we should have called the Alien Task Force when they came…"

"Wait a minute," Lone Starr held up his hand, "I feel the presence of…Yogurt."

"Where?" Barf looked around before noticing a bright light in the sky coming toward Exodosus, "Aha!" the mawg exclaimed, "I knew Yogurt would play an active part in the climax somehow!"

"But he'll never get low enough before the planet blows," Kate pointed out.

"Then we've got to go to him," Lone Starr announced, "We've got to get up to the top of that plateau there for him to pick us up."

"Well that's good except for one very small detail," Willie told him, "That plateau is at least a hundred feet high; there's no way we could get up to the top of it in forty-five seconds."

"Dad's right," Lynn agreed, "Sorry Captain Lone Starr, but it's pretty much over, I'm afraid."

"It's not over yet," Lone Starr said emphatically, "Because I still have the power of the Schwartz."

"Hello, Earth to Captain Lone Starr, Dark Helmet threw your ring into the core!" Willie shouted hysterically, possibly out of fear that there was less than forty seconds left.

"The ring's nothing," Lone Starr said, "The Schwartz is in me. Everyone grab hold of me; it's the only way."

"This is insane," Kate muttered, but she grabbed a hold of Lone Starr's jacket like everyone else. Lone Starr looked up at the cliff and concentrated as hard as he could. Immediately, he lifted off the ground like magic and levitated upward toward the top of the plateau. "Good thinking, LS!" Alf shouted emphatically, "Keep that Schwartz power pumping!"

"Oh my God, we're high up, we're really high up!" Kate was shouting now as the lava-filled surface of Exodosus receded below them. She shut her eyes until they came to a firm landing at the top of the plateau. Lone Starr gestured upward to the large ice cream cone-shaped spacecraft blasting toward them. Inside the cockpit, Yogurt waved back. "Okay Rinky, drop the ladder," he told the Dink driving the ship, "And get as low as you can; we're only going to get one pass at this—as if we ever do get more."

"Dink dink dink, dink dink," the Dink winked and pressed the buttons to lower the steel ship ladder down into place. He then pushed low to get lined up perfectly.

But just when everything seemed neatly wrapped up, another earthquake rocked the plateau, which then started collapsing to the ground. "Drat!" Lynn cursed, "As if this couldn't get any worse!"

"Everybody, make like Carl Lewis!" Barf shouted, running toward the far end of the plateau and rescue. With the ground rapidly giving way behind them, no one argued. Still, Yogurt's ship was still a long way off.

"I don't think we're going to make it!" Kate cried, hoisting Brian up on her shoulders before he could far behind.

"We'll make it!" Alf counter argued, "Or my name isn't Alf—which of course, you know, it really isn't."

"Could you save it till we get on board, if we get on board?" Willie scolded him. The collapsing plateau was right on their heels, and they were about to run out of land. Below them lay bubbling lava at temperatures well over a million degrees.

"Go for broke!" Lone Starr yelled. Putting on their last bursts of speed, everyone jumped off the edge of the plateau just as it collapsed, and in perfect synchronization flew through the air before grabbing hold of the ladder as Yogurt's ship blew past. "If that wasn't close, I don't know what is," Barf said, breathing a big sigh of relief, "For a moment there, I thought I was going to end up a real hot dog."

"Not to go off topic, but on Melmac, we didn't have hot dogs, we had hot cats," Alf explained."

"Do you always have to bring cats up at the wrong timer?" Willie groaned, looking nauseated.

The trapdoor slid open. "Uh, you folks want to come inside, or would you prefer to be irradiated when the planet blows in twenty seconds?" Yogurt asked down to them.

"Is that a trick question?" Alf asked him back, "Of course we're coming up."

On the other side of the planet, the bad guys' escape rocket—with no one at the controls—weaved drunkenly all over the sky, spelling out the phrase "Eat at Joe's" with its exhaust. Finally, it crashed back to the ground inside a canyon. The villains tumbled out, their buttocks visible from the scraping against the launch tube. "Right back where we started!" a frustrated Skroob groaned, looking up at the insurmountable canyon walls, "And I could swear this wasn't in the script!"

"This planet will self-destruct in exactly ten seconds," the computer blurted out, "Counting down. Ten, nine, two, five, eight, three…"

"It's busted," Helmet let out a small chuckle, "It's lost its mind! Maybe it won't blow after all."

"Don't you wish," the computer said tauntingly. Realizing they were once again out of luck, the three villains donned blindfolds and cigarettes and waited for the end of the world as the countdown recommenced: "Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…happy Purim."

"Thank you," Skroob, Sandurz and Helmet moaned.

"You're welcome," the computer answered. And with that, Exodosus exploded in a massive supernova. Fragments of the planet scattered to all sections of the galaxy, many of them barely missing Yogurt's ship as it jetted out of harm's way. Inside the cockpit, all the good guys cheered at the demise of evil yet again. "We did it!" Barf howled in delight, "We' repainted Helmet's little red wagon all over again!"

"And then whitewashed it for good measure," Alf added. He popped a bottle of champagne. "OK, who gets the first drink?"

"Look at there," Brian pointed out the window. The Dink driving the ship just managed to stop in time to avoid hitting the fragment of the planet to which the bad guys were now clinging for their lives. "So long, suckers!" Alf shouted at them as they flew past at well over the speed of sound, "See you next Nathanganger!"

On the soaring meteor, Helmet stopped screaming for a second to shake his fist at the receding ice cream ship. "This isn't over yet, Lone Starr!" he bellowed, "Nor with you, Shumway! Next film, I will get my revenge once and for all!"

"Black, black, black, black…!" Sandurz stammered in horror. Helmet turned around to see that they were flying straight toward a black hole. "Run!" he screamed, pushing forward as hard as he could, "Try and reverse course!"

Skroob and Sandurz tried to run along with him, but it was already too late. With a low thwooping sound, the meteor was sucked into the black hole, taking all three men with it. On board Yogurt's ship, Lone Starr saluted it as it vanished from sight. "Godspeed, Dark Helmet," he said reverently, "You were the best—and only—foe I've ever faced."

"Do you think he'd come back out of the hole?" Lynn had to ask.

"Oh sure he'll be back," Yogurt told her, "In about a billion years."

"Don't be too sure about that," Alf pointed out, "They always come back for the sequels no matter how improbable the situation."

"Well if they do, we'll be ready," Yogurt entered some directional coordinates into the ship's computer, "In the meantime, let's get all you people home."


	18. Homeward Bound

EIGHTEEN

"So that's your final decision?" Tripley asked Lone Starr as Yogurt's ship cruised back towards Druidia, "After spending the whole storing saying how dejected you feel with Vespa, you'd still go back to her?"

"Trip, I guess what I was looking for after all was just a little adventure," Lone Starr told him, "One last great hurrah. Now that I've got it, I'll bed happier in my life as Prince Lone Starr. Don't ask me exactly why, but that's how I feel. This doesn't take anything away from you, though. You're still one of the greatest things that ever happened to me."

"Well, I'll keep that in mind the next time I pop by Druidia," Tripley said with a smile.

Yogurt walked into the room with a megaphone. "Attention everybody who isn't going back to the Moon of Vega," he announced, "Boarding for departure to your home worlds will be beginning on the transit deck in five minutes, so be sharp."

"Uh, I've now got a slight problem, Yogurt," Lone Starr told him, "I'm now…"

"Without a Winnebago, I know," Yogurt told him, "Well follow me, my boy; Uncle Yogurt's got everything all sorted out for you."

"What do you mean you've got every—you got me another Winnebago?" Lone Starr couldn't believe his eyes. But revolving around in the docking bay was a brand new one. "A carbon copy without any carbon; nobody on Druidia'll ever know the difference," the Schwartz master told him, "Consider it a reward for your mastery of the Schwartz back there."

"Thanks Yogurt," Lone Starr shook his mentor's hand, "I knew that would come in handy again. I should probably tell you I decided…"

"To stay with Vespa," Yogurt knew it already, "You're making a good choice, Lone Starr. Look hard enough and you'll find the happily ever after happiness."

"Hey Yogurt," Alf strolled over, "I believe you promised me a snack of sorts for my part in the saving Druidia bargain."

"Yes, sure, you strike a hard bargain, Shumway; the cats are in the trunk," Yogurt pointed to the banana split shaped rocket the Dinks were busy fueling up for transport back to Earth. Alf nodded and walked over to the craft. "All aboard," he called out—needlessly, as the Tanners were all strapped in and ready to go already. "Captain Shumway would like to remind you to put out all cigarettes at this time and make sure your seats are upright and locked," he went on, hopping into the pilot seat.

"So you decided to come back to Earth after all, huh Alf?" Lynn asked him with a knowing smile.

"Yeah," Alf admitted, "I talked to Rhonda, and we agreed I wasn't quite ready yet—again. I'd still have a lot to do with you guys before I'd really want to leave."

"Thanks Alf," Brian hugged him.

"OK, let's not get too emotional, B," his friend told him, "It's not like anyone's dying or anything—yet."

"Please don't say that," Willie mumbled.

"I take it you haven't had the best of trips, Willie," his houseguest pointed out.

"Oh it's been wonderful," Willie told him, "I always wanted to be kidnapped by aliens, tortured unmercifully, almost executed, almost be killed escaping from an exploding planet, and be scared half to death that my son was killed. And as usual, I have you to thank for it, Alf."

"You're welcome," Alf patted him on the shoulder, "You see how exciting you life can be with me?"

"Dink dink dink dink dink dink dink," one of the Dinks announced, throwing a switch to open the bay doors. The dark of space lay before everyone below. "OK, lock up everyone, it's shove off time," Yogurt added.

"Thanks again, Yogurt," Lone Starr shook his hand one more time, "I hope we'll meet again in Spaceballs III."

"Unless my agent tells me otherwise, you betcha," Yogurt winked. Lone Starr nodded. Then he turned to Tripley and gave her a final goodbye hug. "Take care of yourself, Trip," he told her.

"I will," she said, giving him a thumbs-up, "Fly safely."

"You know it," Lone Starr said. Then he slowly walked over to the new Winnebago. "Take care, everyone," he said to them all.

"Dink dink," the Dinks told him as one.

"Watch the traffic on the express—" Alf started to say, by was cut off as the roof of the banana split ship lowered on his head. Gasping for air, he just managed to pull it back in before he asphyxiated. Nonplussed, he started the engine and revved it wildly. "Earth, he we come," he announced as he floored it—backwards into the wall. "Oops, I forgot the controls are the other way in this part of the galaxy," he said sheepishly.

"Alf, give me the controls," Willie ordered him, "We just can't having you joyriding…"

Alf paid no attention. He pressed what had to be about every button on the control panel before he finally hit the Forward switch. The banana split rocketed off into the cosmos toward Earth. Seconds later, Lone Starr took off with his brand new Winnebago and zoomed the other way. "Godspeed," Yogurt called after both crafts, "And may the Schwartz be with yooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!"

* * *

"Ah, no place like back in the solar system," Alf announced as his crafted exited the Centuri Wormhole and returned to a more familiar part of space. "Now if you'll look to the left," he pointed out the window, "You'll see Alvin and Dave, which I told you about numerous times before you believed me on them."

"So they really do exist," Kate mused, glancing at them.

'Of course," Alf said, "There was once two more planets right next to them…"

"Let me guess, Simon and Theodore?" Willie posed.

"Good Willie, you catch on quick," Alf congratulated him.

"Uh Alf, maybe we could slow up a bit?" Lynn suggested as Earth started getting very big in the window, "If we come in too fast, we might burn up, you know."

"I doubt that. This ship's Teflon coated. There not a chance we'd burn up, and if we do, we'd have roast cats in the trunk, which I might add are…"

"Alf, please slow down!" Willie protested. They were steadily accelerating as they plummeted past the moon and back toward the earth at any increasingly alarming rate of speed.

"Uh, I don't think I can," Alf admitted, fiddling with several switches, "I think the gravitational pull has us. On the bright side though, now you'll get to experience what I felt when I first fell to Earth."

"The bright side?" Willie was looking nauseated again, as did just about everyone else. The atmosphere started getting progressively bluer as they screamed along at an almost suicidal rate back toward Los Angeles. "For anyone who wants to use a vomit bag, they're right underneath the seats," Alf pointed out. Willie grabbed four of them at once and after bending down under the seat for privacy, began throwing up into all of them at once. The rest of the Tanners closed their eyes tight, hoping the flight wouldn't end in a fireball. It didn't, but did end with a loud crash that jarred everyone forward a bit. "And there you have it, folks," Alf said, turning off the engine, "Home sweet home."

"Alf, you've hit our garage again!" Kate shouted, noticing they were hanging through the ceiling, much as Alf's spaceship once had.

"I see," Alf said, "Well, some things are just as good the second time around."

"Just as good?" a frustrated Willie rose to his feet, "Between this and the repairs we're going to have to go through to get our house back to normal, you're going to bankrupt us, buster!"

"But you can't say it hasn't been a lot of laughs though, right?" Alf posed.

"No, I guess I can't," Willie admitted, "And I must say, I respect your decision to stay with us, Alf. We do really appreciate your caring for us as you do."

"As do we," came a familiar voice from behind the bulkhead. The next thing anyone knew, about a dozen Melmacians burst into the cockpit. "Skip, Larry, Curtis, what are you guys doing here?" an amazed Alf asked.

"Well, we figured that since you weren't coming back, we might as well spend some time with you," Skip explained, "It has been a while, after all."

"You can have my room, Skip," Brian offered him.

"Oh brother," Kate rolled her eyes.

"Oh Gordon," came the most attractive voice in the galaxy from the bulkhead. Alf broke into a big smile. "You guys go unload the luggage," he told his adoptive family, "I've got some catching up to do with…Rhonda."

He strolled casually out of sight and closed the door. Immediately, concurrent outbreaks of the irritatingly high Melmacian mating call echoed throughout the ship, causing every human to flinch in pain.

"Hey look, there's a cat out there," Larry had already found Lucky prowling around near the garage. Looking famished, Skip opened the door. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty," he called to him. Apparently sensing he was in danger, Lucky took off running. The Melmacians jumped out of the ship and ran after him in a pack.

"Willie….!" Kate gave him a restive glare.

"I know, I know!" Willie shook his head, "But I can't see any way out of it. We'll just have to lock them in the garage and see if we can pick up stray cats off the street for them. Let's just hope the Ochmoneks are out of town. I don't know what we could say to them."

"Hey I know what to say," Alf, covered in lipstick kisses, stuck his head out of the bulkhead, "It's good to be home."

* * *

"So, Barf, what did you think of the story?" Lone Starr asked him as they slipped back through the open air shield toward Druidia.

"The honest truth?" Barf inquired.

"Yeah, sure."

"Well, it could have been a little better in parts, but overall I think it was pretty good," Barf admitted, "There were a couple times when it got a little too serious, though. And I don't think they did enough with Vespa and the others back here on Druidia while we were out. I would have liked to have seen more from them."

"I can see that," Lone Starr mused, "Oh well, can't change it now. I think they handled most of us pretty well. Lynn may have been a little off, but they never completely defined any of them on TV, so I give them a little leeway with that. Just my opinion, though. I'd give it a B+."

"Sounds about right," Barf nodded, "Well, if they give us a third one, it's something to improve off of."

"That's the way to look at it," his boss agreed. He looked down below and saw the landing strip behind King Roland's castled. Home at last.

Inside the castle, everyone was taking steps away from the bathroom door, which was bulging outward from the water inside the bathroom pushing against it. "Uh, I just remembered, I left my oil cookies in the oven," a concerned Dot said out loud, wheeling away.

"Vespa, let me just say now, I don't think he's…" Roland started tell his daughter, but was forced to run for it as the door abruptly burst open, spilling water all over the place. Everyone was wiped down the corridors by the deluge. When it finally stopped, they were all soaking wet. "Is everyone OK?" Roland called to his subjects.

"No sire, I think Tar-Tar drowned," one of the pages pointed to a lifeless Tar-Tar on the floor. At the sight of this, everyone broke into a huge cheer. "He's dead at last!" Roland exclaimed in ecstasy, "Ring out the temple bells! It's a day of national celebration!"

"No, meesa OK, meesa…." Tar-Tar rose up, unnoticed by the throngs except for a guard, who whaled the creature over the head with his mace, apparently killing him for good. It was into this happy scene that Lone Starr stepped out from the bathroom. "Hey, why wasn't I invited to the party?" he asked, a big smile on his face.

"Darling," Vespa rushed to him, "What took you so long? You've been in their for almost four days now."

"I was, uh, really constipated," Lone Starr explained. Nobody seemed to notice that his coat was perfectly dry. The hero looked lovingly into his wife's eyes. "And boy am I glad I did," he said, "I know now that I love you more than ever."

He gave her a kiss on the lips that probably registered about an eight on the Richter scale. "Well you're sure happy," Vespa exclaimed, "I haven't seen you this thrilled since we went to that royal monster truck rally last Nathanganger."

"Yeah, well, everything's good in my world now," Lone Starr said, "What do you say we go make up for all those lost days in our royal bedroom?"

Vespa nodded. The two of them walked off hand in hand. "Uh, Barf," Roland walked up to the mawg, "Could you tell me what exactly's going on here?"

"I could, your Highness, but I doubt you'd believe me," Barf said, smiling after the couple, "But boy, is it good to be home again."

THE END…….

UNTIL ALFBALLS II: THE SEARCH FOR A WORTHWHILE SEQUEL


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